THE 


NEW  YORK 
TOMBS. 


SUTTON. 


Avery  Architectural  and  Fine  Arts  Library 
Gift  of  Seymour  B.  Durst  Old  York  Library 


lEx  IGtbrts 


SEYMOUR  DURST 


When  you  leave,  please  leave  this  book 

Because  it  has  been  said 
"Ever'thing  comes  V  him  who  waits 

Except  a  loaned  book." 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
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the  Xew  York  ¥ombs; 

ITS 

SECRETS  AND  ITS  MYSTERIES. 

BEING  A 

History  of  Noted  Criminals,  with  Narratives  of  their  Crimes, 

AS  GATHERED  BY 

CHAELES  SUTTON, 

WARDEN  OF  THE  PRISON. 

EDITED  BY 

JAMES  B.  MIX  AND  SAMUEL  A.  MACKEEVER. 


"  Those  Dreadful  walls  of  Newgate"— -Dickens. 


SPLENDIDLY  ILLUSTRATED  FROM  ORIGINAL  DESIGNS. 


SOLD  ONLY  BY  SUBSCRIPTION. 


UNITED  STATES  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 
11  &  13  University  Place. 


ClAjJICS 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEE  L 

PAGE 


INTRODUCTORY   17 


CHAPTEE  II. 

Prisons  of  New  York.— Stadt  Huys.— Old  City  Hall.— New  Jail.— Bride- 
well.— Bellevue  Penitentiary. — State  Prison  at  Greenwich. — Ludlow 
Street  Jail. — House  of  Refuge   20 


CHAPTEE  III. 

Modes  of  Punishment. — The  Whipping  Post. — The  Pillory. — The  Ducking 
Stool.— The  Stocks.— The  Wooden  Horse.— The  Treadmill   35 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

The  Tombs. — The  Collect. — Incidents  in  its  early  History. — Progress  of  Im- 
provements.— Erection  of  the  Tombs   44 


CHAPTEE  V. 

A  Treatise  on  Gambling. — An  Essay  by  a  Convict. — The  Strange  and  Re- 
markable Career  of  Mulligan. — Shot  down  in  San  Francisco. — The 
Desperate  Fight  preceding  his  Death. — The  Beau  Brummel  of  the 
Gamblers  at  that  time   53 


CHAPTEE  VI. 


Colt's  Case. — The  Murder  of  Samuel  Adams. — The  Death  Grapple  in  Colt's 
Office. — Shipping  the  Body  to  New  Orleans.— Detection. — Arrest. — The 
Tombs.— The  Wedding  in  the  Cell.— Suicide  of  Colt   64 


viii 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

PAGE 


The  Driftwood  in  the  Current  of  Metropolitan  Life. — Vagrants — Bummers- 
Drunkards — Revolvers — Misers   81 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Humorous  and  Pathetic  Incidents. — Benevolence  of  the  late  Simeon  Draper. 
— A  Practical  Joke. — What  Happened  in  an  Omnibus. — How  a  State 
Room  was  Secured   88 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Murderers'  Row. — Assassins  of  the  Period. — How  they  Live  in  the  New 
York  Tombs. — Murder  at  a  Premium. — Flowers,  Canary  Birds  and  Kid- 
derminster Carpets. — Gentlemen  of  Elegant  Leisure. — Rose-Colored 
Life  in  the  Prison  Cell   93 


CHAPTER  X. 

Helen  Jewett,  the  Queen  of  the  Demi-monde. — Her  Early  Life. — Correspond- 
ence.— Acquaintance  with  Prominent  Statesmen,  Artists  and  Actors  of 
the  Day. — Her  Youthful  Lover,  Richard  P.  Robinson. — Her  Murder. — 
Attempt  to  Burn  the  Body. — James  Gordon  Bennett's  Description  of 
the  Charred  Corpse,  as  viewed  the  next  Morning. — Excitement  at  the 
Trial. — Eloquence  of  Robinson's  Counsel,  Hon.  Ogden  Hoffman. — 
Murder  of  a  Witness. — Bribery  of  a  Juror. — Perjury  of  a  Witness. — 
Acquittal  of  Robinson — Flight  to  Texas. — A  Strange  Sequel   97 


CHAPTER  XL 

The  Stanwix  Hall  Tragedy. — Native  American  Party. — Tom  Hyer. — Bill 
Poole. — John  Morrissey. — Lewis  Baker. — Paudeen. — Assassination  of 
Poole. — Fate  of  his  Assailants. — Letter  of  John  Morrissey  on  Retiring 
from  the  Prize  Ring   137 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Executions  in  the  City  and  County  of  New  York   148 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  Bond  Street  Tragedy.— The  Murder  of  Dr.  Harvey  Burdell.— Stabbed 
to  Death  in  his  own  Office.— Who  did  it?  Was  it  a  Left-Handed 
Woman?  Arrest  and  Trial  of  Mrs.  Cunningham. — Not  Guilty. — That 
Wonderful  Baby   156 


CONTENTS.  ix 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

PAGE 

The  Story  of  the  Frenchman  who  did  not  witness  the  Execution,  and  how 

it  happened   168 


CHAPTER  XV. 

John  Mahony,  the  American  Jack  Sheppard.  — An  accounir  of  his  Adventur- 
ous Life,  written  by  Himself. — His  Career  of  Crime,  and  his  Remark- 
able Escapes   170 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Murder  most  Foul. — Entrance  to  the  Chamber  of  Horrors. — Hicks  the 
Pirate. — His  Bloody  Deeds  on  board  an  Oyster  Sloop. — Execution  on 
Bedloe's  Island.  209 


CHAPTER  XYII. 

Charles  Walters  Murders  his  Faithless  Wife,  while  mad  with  Rum.— The 
Death  Sentence. — Efforts  of  Judge  Stewart. — Commutation  of  Sen- 
tence to  Imprisonment  for  Life   216 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Wife  Murder  by  Arsenic. — The  Case  of  John  Stephens. — Persecution  of  his 
Wife's  Niece. — Her  Brother  Attempts  to  shoot  Him. — The  Finger  of 
Suspicion. — Exhuming  the  Body. — Traces  of  Arsenic  Found. — The 


Trial,  the  Cell  and  the  Rope   222 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Murder  of  a  Mistress. — Shocking  Tragedy  on  the  Steps  of  the  Brandreth 
House. — Robert  C.  Macdonald  shoots  the  beautiful  Virginia  Stewart. — 
Rum,  Rage  and  Jealousy   232 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Confidence  Men. — Romantic  Adventures  of  Eugene  Mickiweez,  the  Russian 
Count. — The  Diamond  Ring. — Colonel  Marmaduke  Reeves. — How  he 
cut  off  a  Cossack's  Head. — His  Erratic  Career  236 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Burglary. — A  Mercantile  Transaction. — Chauncey  Johnson 


251 


X 


CONTEXTS. 


CHAPTEE  XXII. 

PAGE 

Counterfeiting. — Forgery. — Spencer  Pettis. — Monroe  Edwards. — Canter. — 

Redman.— The  Webb-Marshall  Duel   258 

CHAPTEE  XXIII. 

The  Haunted  Cell   273 

CHAPTEE  XX1Y. 

Burdett  the  Lunatic. — An  Incident  of  Bummer's  Hall   280 

CHAPTEE  XXY. 

Piracy  and  Privateering. — Baker  and  his  Confederate  Crew. — Babe  the 
Pirate. — The  Doomed  Unknown. — Anecdote  of  the  Elder  Booth. — What 
Mrs.  Ann  S.  Stephens  did.    285 

CHAPTEE  XXYI. 

Escapes  from  the  Tombs   289 

CHAPTEE  XXVIL 

Captain  Gordon,  the  Slave-Trader. — His  Crime,  his  Trial  and  his  Execu- 
tion.— The  Attempt  at  Suicide   295 

CHAPTEE  XXYIII. 

"  Hanging  is  Played  Out."— The  Case  of  Jack  Reynolds. — A  Bloody  Murder 
on  a  quiet  Sunday  Eve. — William  Townsend  Stabbed  to  the  Heart.— 
The  Angry  Mob.— His  Execution   303 

CHAPTEE  XXIX. 

Ten  Days  in  the  Tombs. — A  Bona  Fide  Personal  Sketch. — A  View  from  the 
Inside. — How  the  Ten-Day  Folks  are  Treated. — The  Maniac. — Poor 
Kate  Golden.— The  "Black  Maria."— Off  for  the  Island  328 

CHAPTEE  XXX. 

The  Astor  Place  Riot. — Edwin  Forrest. — Charlotte  Cushman. — Macready, 
the  English  Tragedian.  —  Chevalier  Wikoff .  —  ' '  Workingmen,  Shall 
Americans  or  English  Rule  in  this  City." — The  Riot  and  its  Instigators. 
—Arrest  of  E.  Z.  C.  Judson,  "Ned  Buntline."— His  Indictment,  Trial, 
Conviction  and  Sentence  :  348 


CONTENTS. 


xi 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

PAGE 

Abortionists. — Madam  Restell. — Her  Crimes,  Arrest,  Trial,  Conviction,  Im- 
prisonment in  the  Tombs,  and  on  Blackwell's  Island. — Her  Fifth 
Avenue  Palace. — Rosenzweig. — The  Trunk  Horror. — Alice  Bowlsby's 
Melancholy  Fate. — Quack  Doctors  and  Doctresses. — Their  Patrons  and 
Patients. — Escape  of  Rosenzweig  359 


CHAPTER  ^XXII. 

Murder  in  the  Tribune  Office. — The  Richardson-McFarland  Tragedy. — 
Abby  Sage  Richardson's  Sad  History. — The  Wedding  at  the  Astor 
House. — Henry  Ward  Beecher. — Marriage  Ceremony. — "  So  Long  as 
You  Two  Both  do  Live." — Death  as  a  Divorce  Lawyer. — Trial  of  Mc- 
Farland.—  Not  Guilty   375 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

The  Case  of  Charles  Jeffards.—  He  Kills  His  Step-father.— How  the  Crime 
was  Traced  to  Him. —  His  Death  in  Prison. —  Henry  Carnell. — He 
Murders  his  Landlord. — The  Unlucky  Jump  into  the  Area. — Four  Years 
in  the  Tombs   449 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Murders  in  Hot  Blood. — The  Car-hook  Murder. — Foster's  Crime,  Trial  and 
Fate. — Efforts  to  Secure  Executive  Clemency. — Is  a  Man  Crazed  with 
Rum  Responsible  for  His  Acts  ? — Felix  Sanchez  Stabs  His  Father-in- 
Law.  —  Murdered  with  a  Bayonet. — Stabbed  to  Death  with  a  Sword  - 
Cane   457 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

River  Thieves. — The  Birds  of  Prey  who  Prowl  Nightly  along  the  River  Front 
of  New  York. — How  they  Operate. — The  Shadowy  Skiff  Propelled  by 
Muffled  Oars. — The  Dark-lantern  of  the  River  Police. — Revolver  Prac- 
tice, "  My  God  !  I'm  Shot."— The  Howlett  and  Saul  Case.— The  Double 
Execution. — Haunts  and  Habits  of  the  River-Gang. — Their  Deeds. — 
Tragic  End  of  ik  Socco  the  Bracer."   467 


CHAPTER  XXXYI. 

Sharkey's  Crime,  Trial,  and  Escape. — "  Stone- Walls  do  not  a  Prison  Make, 
nor  Iron  Bars  a  Cage." — The  Love  of  Maggie  Jourdan. — That  Famous 
Red  Ticket. — The  Veiled  Lady  who  Passed  out  of  the  Gate.— Maggie's 
Trial  and  Devotion   482 


xii 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

PAGE 

The  Parricide. — Young  Walworth  Shoots  his  Father  at  the  Sturtevant 
House. — Trial — Efforts  to  Save. — Charles  O'Conor  as  Counsel. — State 
prison  for  Life. — A  Mother's  Devotion  499 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

The  Adventurous  Career  of  Mrs.  Victoria  C.  Woodhull  and  Miss  Tennie  C. 
Claflin. — How  they  did  the  Clairvoyant  Dodge  in  the  West. — t;  Eastward 
the  Star  of  Woodhull  takes  its  Way." — Their  Appearance  in  New  York. 
— The  Office  on  Eroad  Street  and  the  Up-Town  Residence. — Establish- 
ment of  "Woodhull  and  Claflin's  Weekly." — Free  Love. — Gathering  of 
the  Storm. — Vicky's  Lightning  Flashes. — The  Great  Beecher  Scandal. — 
"In  the  Tombs."— Geo.  Francis  Train.— Ludlow  Street  Jail   506 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Mansfield,  the  Modern  Cleopatra. — Her  Life  with  the  Prince  of  Erie. — Stokes 
on  the  Scene. — Speculation,  Sin  and  Law.  —Scene  at  the  Grand  Central 
Hotel. — Tragedy  on  the  Stair-Case. — "There's  a  Man  Shot  at  the 
Ladies'  Entrance." — The  Funeral. — Trial. — Conviction. — Death-Sen- 
tence.— New  Trial. — Luxury  in  the  Tombs. — Sing  Sing. — Stokes'  State- 
ment  520 


CHAPTER  XL. 

The  State  Prison  at  Sing  Sing. — Its  Origin,  Capacity,  Discipline,  Etc,  Etc.  5S3 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

Blackwell's  Island  as  seen  by  a  Lady,  H.  B  ,   610 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

The  New  York  Ring. — Its  Extent,  Influences,  and  Purposes. — The  Great 
Ring  Magnate,  William  Marcy  Tweed. — His  Confederates. — Buying  the 
Legislature. — Ruling  New  York. — The  Millions  Stolen  from  the  City 


Treasury, — Trials,  Convictions,  Sentences,  Escapes   629 


APPENDIX. 

Statement  of  Edward  S.  Stokes   649 

Prison  Management  and  Reformation.  — Hubbell   657 

Prison  Sunshine   663 


ONE  WORD  AFTER  YOU  SEE  THE  TITLE. 


IF  the  reader  takes  up  this  book  with  the  idea  that  we 
have  unrolled  a  record  of  violence,  crime  and  blood, 
to  gratify  a  depraved  taste  for  the  horrible  ;  or  because 
we  are  fond  of  writing  about  such  scenes ;  or  exult  in 
the  barbarism  of  strangling  human  beings  to  death  on 
the  gallows,  he  will  make  one  of  the  biggest  blunders  of 
his  life. 

We  abhor  crime,  and  therefore  we  write  its  history 
in  true  colors,  that  we  may  deter  our  fellow-men  from  its 
perpetration — just  as  buoys  are  set  over  sunken  rocks  to 
keep  other  ships  from  going  down — just  as  the  reformed 
drunkard  from  the  platform,  curdles  the  blood  of  his 
hearers  by  painting  the  hell  that  burned  in  his  own 
wretched  soul,  and  the  heart-broken  sufferings  he  brought 
to  his  once  happy  fireside.  His  pictures  of  the  degra- 
dation and  foul  beastliness  which  drink  brings  a  man  to 
are  not  likely  to  throw  any  enchantment  around  deli- 
rium tremens. 

If  we  trace  the  road  to  murder,  by  drops  of  blood  left 
in  the  slayer's  track,  are  we  planting  flowers  in  the  path 
of  the  young  ?  If  we  report  criminal  trials,  and  show  by 
what  artifices  advocates  invoke  the  most  subtle  and  despe- 
rate agencies  to  save  deep-dyed  villains  from  punishment ; 
and  how  fearlessness  in  the  prosecution,  and  uprightness 
on  the  bench  and  in  the  jury,  strip  off  all  disguises  and 
drag  the  wrong-doer  to  his  merited  doom, — no  matter  how 
high,  how  rich,  how  popular,  or  how  powerful  the  felon 
may  be, — are  we  presenting  any  allurements  to  the  young 
to  take  the  downward  road  ? 

Above  all,  if  by  depicting  the  barbarism  of  legal  mur- 


14 


ONE  WORD  AFTER  YOU  SEE  THE  TITLE. 


der — the  brutalizing  effect  of  making  a  community  fami- 
liar with  the  shedding  of  human  blood  by  judicial  execu- 
tions— if  we  show  that  blood-shedding  is  no  antidote  to 
blood-shedding — that  because  some  besotted  wretch,  more 
likely  than  not  crazed  by  rum,  has  committed  one  mur- 
der, therefore  another  must  be  committed — if  we  show 
how  civilized  men  have  at  last  become  so  sick  of  hanging 
their  brother  man  that  it  takes  four  hundred  citizens  to 
strain  out  a  jury,  and  even  then,  if  there  be  no  choice  be- 
tween hanging  and  not  punishing  at  all,  will  generally 
bring  in  a  verdict  of  not  guilty ;  or  disagree,  and  leave 
the  same  farce  to  be  played  over  again,  till  it  often  takes 
two  years,  and  one  or  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  of 
the  tax-payers'  money  not  to  hang  one  poor  wretch  in  cold 
blood,  while  scores  of  murderers  walk  with  impunity  the 
streets  of  every  city  in  the  land — if  by  exposing  these 
fearful  evils,  the  reader,  be  he  young  or  old,  does  not 
rise  from  reading  this  book  with  the  feeling  that  we 
have  tried  to  do  the  cause  of  virtue  and  humanity  some 
service,  then  we  have  indeed  written  in  vain. 

Make  your  laws  so  justly  proportioned  to  crime,  that 
every  good  citizen  will  aid  in  their  inflexible  execution. 
In  this  way  alone  will  crime  ever  be  abated. 

In  this  Book  we  do  not  attempt  to  give  a  full  record 
of  the  history  of  crime  in  New  York,  since  our  space  will 
not  admit  of  a  hundredth  of  the  cases.  But  we  choose 
from  the  most  prominent  and  striking.  Nor  do  we  find 
it  advisable  to  adhere  in  every  instance  to  chronological 
order.  We  have  drawn  our  information  from  various 
sources,  and  during  the  progress  of  the  work  have  kept 
open  our  chapters  for  suggestions  from  our  numerous 
advisers,  and  this  has  necessarily  disarranged  the  order. 
The  facts  we  claim  to  give. — The  Editors. 


CHAPTEE  IV. 


THE  TOMBS. — THE  COLLECT. — INCIDENTS  IN  ITS  EARLY  HISTORY. — 
PROGRESS  OF  IMPROVEMENTS. — ERECTION  OF  THE  TOMBS. 

"  Elsewhere  people  are  restless,  worried,  hurried  about,  anxious  respecting  one 
thing,  anxious  respecting  another.  Nothing  of  this  kind  here,  sir.  We  have  done  all 
that ;  we  know  the  worst  of  it :  we  have  got  to  the  bottom  ,  we  can't  fall :  and  what 
have  we  found  Peace.  That's  the  word  for  it — Peace." — Dickens,  in  Little 
Dorritt. 

"FT  scarcely  seems  credible  to  the  present  generation,  unfamiliar 
with  the  original  topography  of  "  Beautiful  Manahatta,"  that 
there  was  once  a  lovely  and  picturesque  lake,  bounded  by  Canal 
street  on  the  north,  Pearl  street  on  the  south,  Mulberry  street  on  the 
east,  and  Centre  street  on  the  west ;  and  yet  such  was  the  case. 
This  lake  was  surrounded  by  romantic  hills,  which,  on  the  west,  in 
the  vicinity  of  Broadway,  rose  to  a  considerable  height.  Its  waters 
were  pure  and  fresh,  and  its  depth,  once  thought  to  be  unfathom- 
able, was  ultimately  ascertained  to  be  about  fifty  feet.  It  had  a 
navigable  outlet  into  the  North  river,  and  abounded  in  a  variety  of 
fish.  The  Indians  made  it  their  favorite  resort,  and  built  their  vil- 
lages on  its  shores.  Long  before  the  white  man  placed  his  foot 
upon  the  island  the  savage  here  cultivated  his  rude  arts,  built  his 
simple  wigwams  in  clusters  around  the  quiet  water,  clove  its  calm 
surface  with  his  bark  canoe,  and  drew  from  its  crystal  depths  the 
struggling  fish.  What  scenes  of  rude  and  barbarous  sport,  of  joy 
and  sorrow,  of  crime,  cruelty  and  war,  were  here  enacted  long 
before  the  days  of  Hudson ! 

In  the  early  history  of  the  island  this  collection  of  water  was 
called  by  the  English  "Fresh  Water,"  and  "Fresh  Water  Pond." 
The  Dutch  called  it  "  Kalchhook,"  or  "Shell  Point,"  from  a  large 
deposit  of  decomposed  shells,  which  formed  a  point  on  the  western 
shore.  This  name  was  afterwards  abbreviated  into  "  Kalch," 
"Callech,"  "Colleck,"  "Collect." 

"  The  "  Collect  Pond  "  occupied  almost  the  entire  space  which 
is  bounded  on  the  north  by  White  street,  and  on  the  south  by 


94  THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 

Victor  Hugo,  in  his  "  Last  days  of  a  Condemned  Man,"  paints 
this  picture  superbly.  The  very  thoughts  of  the  miserable  wretch 
are  reproduced  in  his  glowing  language.  We  shrink  with  horror 
from  the  contemplation  of  the  scene,  and  wonder,  since  such  is  the 
fate,  how  any  man  can  commit  murder.  They  may  do  those  things 
better  in  France,  but  how  is  it  in  New  York  ? 

Let  us  take  a  stroll  through  Murderers'  Eow  in  the  Tombs. 
Coming  in  from  the  pure  air  and  warm  sunshine  you  say,  as  you 


THE  POPULAR  IDEA. 

step  upon  the  corridor,  "  Surely  this  is  dismal  enough  I"  And  so  it 
is ;  but  this  is  only  the  exterior  of  the  parlors. 

As  the  keeper  swings  open  the  door  of  the  first  cell  we  come  to 
the  odor  of  sweet  spring  flowers  strikes  you.  It  is  no  delusion,  for 
there  they  are  in  a  delicate  vase  upon  the  centre  table.  That 
handsomely  dressed  lady,  with  the  golden  hair,  whom  we  passed  on 
the  stairs,  has  just  left  them.  To-morrow  they  will  be  replaced  by 
fresh  ones.  The  table  itself  is  a  pretty  one — there  is  nothing 
handsomer  on  Fifth  avenue.  It  is  of  exquisite  workmanship,  and 
is  covered  with  a  dainty  cloth.  In  a  gilt  cage,  hanging  against  the 
wall,  is  a  canary,  whose  dulcet  strain  gushes  out  from  his  palpita- 


106  THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 

and,  after  the  first  season  of  your  fancy,  your  fondness  would  give 
place  to  mistrust,  and  I  would  be  suspected  at  a  greater  disadvan- 
tage than  the  numerous  unblemished  women  who,  notwithstanding 
the  blamelessness  of  their  early  lives,  are  rendered  miserable  by 
the  unfounded  jealousy  of  their  husbands  every  day,  Give  me 
leave  to  speak,  sir,  on  this  subject  as  if  I  knew  something  of  it 
Woman  is  the  bauble  of  man's  passions — always  so  when  he  has 
no  deep  respect  for  her  purity  of  character  or  sentiment.  You 
would  be  troubled  with  many  unpleasant  reflections,  after  the  first 
season  of  your  liking  was  over,  and  the  check  which  you  would 
continually  find  me  to  your  intercourse  with  society  would  first 
manufacture  regrets  and  then  turn  them  into  hate.  Knowing  this 
from  the  experience  which  I  have  personally  had  of  the  evanescent 
ardor  of  mere  passion,  it  would  be  unjust  in  me  not  to  undeceive 
you,  or  not  to  reject  a  bond  of  ultimate  misery  for  both.  There 
are  other  reasons,  less  magnanimous  than  those  which  I  have  stated, 
that  induce  me  to  respectfully  refer  your  offer  back  to  your  reflec- 
tions, but  of  these  I  need  not  speak.  I  find  no  fault  with  you  for 
your  frank  estimation  of  the  present  degradation  I  am  living  under, 
but  I  am  in  a  whirlpool  from  which  I  cannot  rise  by  means  of  your 
proffer,  and  all  I  can  do  is  to  trim  my  bark  to  sail  as  decently  as 
possible  till  I  am  eventually  swallowed  in  its  vortex. 

For  the  compliments  which  you  pay  my  qualities  of  heart  and 
mind  I  feel  grateful,  of  course ;  but  I  commend  you,  if  you  are 
sincere,  to  think  as  little  of  them  as  possible  hereafter.  What 
destiny  I  am  reserved  for  I  do  not  know,  but  I  do  know  that  I 
cannot  eke  it  out  in  the  current  you  propose.  If,  therefore,  you 
see  me  again — for  I  have  no  doubt  that  you  have  been  acquainted 
with  me  more  intimately  than  you  pretend — maintain  your  incog- 
nito, and  do  not  encourage  yourself  that  an  appeal  in  person,  under 
any  circumstances,  will  alter  the  resolution  which  I  have  here  set 
down.  That  you  may  not  hope  that  this  determination  was 
founded  in  caprice,  I  repeat  there  are  circumstances  of  a  private 
and  selfish  nature,  which,  apart  from  any  conclusion  of  philosophy, 
would  oblige  me  to  decide  definitely  against  you. 

Yours  with  respect,  H.  J. 

To  Keitben  Jarvis, 

New  York  Post-office." 


THE  MARRIAGE  AND  DEATH.  379 

The  Hon.  Horace  Greeley  and  several  of  Mrs.  McFarland's  lady 
friends  and  advisers  were  also  witnesses  to  the  strange  and  solemn 
ceremony. 

On  the  night  of  the  2d  of  December,  1869,  the  witness — Death 
— claimed  his  own.  There  were  present  Colonel  T.  H.  Knox,  Mr. 
Junius  Henri  Browne,  Mrs.  Sage  (mother  of  the  bride),  Dr.  Car- 
ter, and  Dr.  Swan. 

Such  is  a  plain  matter-of-fact  narrative  of  the  shooting,  the  ar- 
rest, the  marriage,  and  the  death.  What  led  to  this  tragedy  can- 
not be  told  in  a  few  words,  but  can  be  gathered  from  the  facts 
brought  out  on  the  trial,  which  was  certainly  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable that  ever  took  place  in  this  country.  We  shall  give  a 
full  and  interesting  synopsis  further  on.  But  as  a  simple  act  of 
justice,  prompted  by  a  chivalric  spirit  which  dictates  that  a  lady 
should  be  heard  first  in  any  case  that  concerns  her  honor,  we  pro- 
duce here  the  sworn  statement  of  Mrs.  Abby  Sage  Richardson. 
Let  it  be  read  carefully,  for  it  is  the  cry  from  the  heart  of  a 
woman  who  was  either  one  of  the  most  erring  of  her  sex,  or  the 
most  unjustly  injured  : — 

MRS.  RICHARDSON'S  STATEMENT. 

I  feel  that  I  cannot  break  the  silence  which  heretofore  I  have  rig-idly  main- 
tained without  saying  a  word  as  to  the  cause  which  leads  me  to  make  a  public 
statement.  I  fully  believe  that  any  one  of  any  degree  of  pride  or  delicacy  will 
bear  reproach  and  contumely,  and  even  the  vilest  slanders,  in  silence,  rather  than 
drag  out  to  public  comment  the  most  sacred  details  of  his  inner  life,  and  that 
only  the  meanest  soul  will  babble  of  that  which  concerns  itself  most  deeply.  But 
during  the  last  six  months,  and  not  a  little  during  the  last  three  years,  I  have 
been  exposed  to  such  a  storm  of  public  opinion,  that  all  others  I  ever  knew  sink 
into  insignificance  beside  it.  And  now,  after  I  have  waited  in  patience  the  verdict 
of  newspapers,  of  the  public,  and  of  a  New  York  court  and  jury,  I  have  decided 
that  I  will  speak  the  first  and  last  word  I  shall  ever  speak  for  myself. 

Not  for  any  attempt  at  my  own  vindication  do  I  write  this  explanation.  But 
for  the  sake  of  the  noble  men  and  women  who  have  stood  by  me  through  all  re- 
vilings,  often  without  any  explanation  from  me,  and  always  in  the  full  faith  that 
I  was  most  cruelly  wronged ;  for  their  sakes,  and  for  his  who  lost  his  life  in  my 
behalf,  I  wish  to  tell  the  whole  story  of  my  life.  When  I  was  once  advised  to 
do  so  and  hesitated,  a  good  woman  said  to  me,  ' '  Do  not  be  afraid  to  tell  your 
story  once  to  all  the  world.  Tell  it  once  exactly  as  you  would  tell  it  to  your 
Maker,  and  then  keep  silence  forever  after." 

And  this  is  what  I  mean  to  do  ;  to  write  as  exactly  as  I  can  the  whole  and  sim- 
ple truth  to  the  minutest  details,  reserving  nothing  and  extenuating  notMng.  In 


630  THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 

Tweed,  who  was  known  throughout  the  city  as  the  "  Boss."  His 
magnetic  influence  was  felt  in  every  ward  in  the  city.  Each 
ward  had  as  many  organizations  as  there  were  election  districts, 
and  his  retainers  or  henchmen  who  presided  over  them  came 
daily  in  contact  with  their  chieftain.  Never  was  a  party  more 
thoroughly  organized,  and  what  wonder  is  it  that  such  an  army 
should  make  a  city  captive !    It  might  be  said  that  William  M. 


WM.  M.  TWEED. 


Tweed  sprang  to  the  helm  of  the  New  York  Democracy.  True, 
he  had  been  chosen  to  several  high  offices  from  his  own  district, 
but  his  influence  did  not  extend  beyond  the  section  in  which  he  had 
lived  from  boyhood.  He  was  born  on  the  East  Side  in  the  year 
1823,  of  poor  parents,  and  early  thrown  on  his  own  resources. 
He  learned  the  trade  of  a  chairmaker  and  worked  at  it  for  many 
years^  He  soon  became  ambitious  of  political  distinction,  and  to 
increase  his  qualifications  and  improve  his  chances  he  entered  the 


656  APPENDIX. 

for  three  consecutive  trials — I  was  for  days  a  witness  upon  the 
stand — I  left  it  without  a  single  aspersion  being  made  derog- 
atory to  me,  and  I  am  proud  of  it.  It  speaks  louder  than  any- 
thing I  can  say  in  my  vindication,  and  brands  the  slanders  that 
have  been  so  persistently  printed  about  me. 

After  all,  my  case  is  determined  by  the  public  upon  the  same 
identical  theory.  Those  that  believe  the  evidence  of  the  hall 
boys,  believe  I  am  guilty  of  murder ;  and  those  that  believe  their 
story  wickedly  manufactured,  believe  I  am  innocent — that's  all 
there  is  to  it.  The  theory  is  correct ;  I  admit,  if  one-tenth  part  of 
what  Hart  testified  be  true,  a  more  cold-blooded  assassination  never 
was  committed,  and  that  any  jury  believing  their  evidence  and 
failing  to  convict  of  murder  in  the  first  degree,  were  recreant  to 
their  oaths.  But  the  jury  believed  those  boys  perjured  ;  why  are 
they  not  tried  for  the  perjury  the  jury  say  they  have  committed  \ 
The  evidence  against  them  is  overwhelming,  their  guilt  is  as  clear 
as  the  noonday  sun.  I  only  ask,  let  them  be  tried,  and  upon  the  re- 
sult of  their  trial  let  the  public  determine  my  guilt  or  innocence. 

Erie  Ring  lawyers  and  Tammany  Ring  judges  came  near  de- 
stroying me.  It  was  their  intention  at  the  outset  to  make  short 
and  quick  work,  but  the  tactics  of  my  counsel  in  a  measure  pre- 
vented it.  But  the  glorious  music  of  reform  drove  them  from 
power  and  prevented  the  forcing  on  my^  trial. 

It  is  my  decided  opinion,  that  my  first  counsel  made  a  sad  mis- 
take in  not  allowing  at  once  a  public  statement  of  my  encounter 
with  Fisk.  The  public  knew  nothing  concerning  it — heard  noth- 
ing— except  the  manufactured  story  of  Thomas  Hart  and  his  ac- 
complices, and  my  silence  was  regarded  as  conclusive  evidence  of 
guilt,  and  the  general  impression  was  that  there  could  be  only 
one  defence,  and  that  insanity.  I  was  so  prejudiced  thereby  at 
the  time  of  my  trial,  that  such  a  thing  as  a  fair  trial  was  impossi- 
ble. All  my  witnesses  were  looked  upon  with  disfavor  and  dis- 
trust. I  should  perhaps  state  that  Mr.  William  O.  Bartlett,  one 
of  my  counsel,  favored  a  public  statement,  but  was  overruled. 

In  conclusion,  I  can  only  state,  on  my  honor  as  a  man,  that  Fisk 
brought  about  the  conflict ;  otherwise  I  should  have  passed  him 
quietly  by,  on  the  stairs.  Edward  S.  Stokes. 

Sing  Sing,  Feb.  24,  1874. 


/ 

HALLS  OF  JUSTICE.  49 

quently  a  commission  was  appointed  to  take  the  charge  of  the 
public  institutions  of  the  city,  the  "  Tombs  "  and  House  of  Correc- 
tion coming  under  the  supervision  of  this  commission.  In  1845  a 
change  was  again  made,  whereby  the  Tombs  was  placed  under  the 
control  of  one  commissioner,  and  Mr.  James  H.  Cook  was  appoint- 
ed. He  served  for  one  year,  and  was  succeeded  by  Moses  G. 
Leonard,  who  continued  in  office  until  1849.  The  Legislature  of 
that  year  passed  a  law  placing  the  Tombs  and  the  other  public  in- 
stitutions under  the  charge  of  a  body  of  ten,  who  were  known  as 


THE  TOMBS. 

the  Board  of  the  Ten  Governors  of  the  Almshouse — five  being 
appointed  from  each  of  the  two  political  parties,  Whig  and  Demo- 
cratic. The  Board  of  Ten  Governors  was,  in  its  turn,  supple- 
mented by  the  Commissioners  of  Public  Charities  and  Corrections, 
appointed  by  the  Comptroller  of  the  city  to  serve  for  five  years. 
This  system  continued  in  force  until  1870,  when  the  new  Charter 
vested  the  appointment  in  the  Mayor,  and  added  one  to  the  num- 
ber of  the  commissioners,  which  had  previously  been  four. 

The  officers  attached  to  the  Tombs  are  a  Warden,  two  Deputy 

4 


50 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


Wardens,  a  Physician,  a  Eecord  Clerk,  a  Steward,  eleven  Keepers, 
a  Matron  and  two  Deputy  Matrons.  The  capacity  of  the  Prison 
is  for  about  200  prisoners,  allowing  one  to  each  cell,  but  as  it 
frequently  happens  that  there  are  more  prisoners  than  cells — 
there  having  been  as  many  as  500  prisoners  at  one  time  during 
1870 — it  is  found  necessary  sometimes  to  keep  two  and  even  three 


THE  YARD  OF  THE  TOMBS. 


in  a  cell.  The  Prison  for  males  is  wholly  separated  from  that  for 
females,  and  contains  about  150  cells,  ranged  in  four  tiers.  In  a 
portion  of  the  cells  on  the  lower  floor,  or  ground  tier,  are  placed 
the  convicts,  i  e.,  those  under  sentence.  To  the  second  tier  are 
consigned  such  prisoners  as  are  brought  in  charged  with  serious 
offences,  such  as  murder,  arson,  etc.  To  the  third  tier  prisoners 
brought  in  for  grand  larceny  and  burglary  are  sent.    The  cells  on 


bummers'  hael. 


51 


the  upper  tier  are  reserved  for  those  charged  with  minor  offences, 
such  as  petit  larceny  and  the  like.  The  lower  tier  cells  are  the 
largest,  those  on  the  upper  tier  the  smallest  All  are  of  the  same 
width,  but,  owing  to  the  manner  in  which  the  corridors  are  con- 
structed, the  cells  on  each  tier  are  about  two  feet  less  in  depth  than 
those  immediately  underneath.  The  lower  cells  are  quite  commo- 
ious,  but  in  the  upper  ones  there  is  no  room  to  spare. 

On  Franklin  street  there  is  a  stone  building,  which  was  formerly 
used  as  a  station  for  the  police  of  the  district.  It  has  since  been 
altered,  the  cells  and  offices  being  taken  out,  and  the  building  con- 
verted into  one  large  hall.  In  this  hall  are  put  the  tramps,  va- 
grants, vagabonds,  and  those  found  drunk  in  the  streets,  where 
they  are  kept  until  the  next  morning,  when  their  cases  are  sever- 
ally disposed  of  by  the  Commissioners — some  being  sent  to  the 
Penitentiary,  others  to  the  Workhouse,  and  others  to  the  Alms- 
house. This  building  is  known  to  the  attaches  and  frequenters 
of  the  Tombs  as  "Bummers'  HalL" 

The  location  of  the  Tombs  is  not  such  as  a  commission  of 
experts  would  recommend  as  the  site  of  an  hospital,  situated  as  it 
is  in  the  middle  of  what  was  once  a  deep  fresh  water  pond,  which 
was  filled  up  with  the  dirt  and  rubbish  of  the  city,  and  the  drain- 
age of  which  is  anything  but  perfect ;  dampness  pervades  the 
entire  structure,  and  it  is  not  an  uncommon  thing  for  the  cells  to 
be  overflowed  with  the  water  which  is  forced  back  through  the 
drain  pipes — yet  the  sanitary  condition  of  the  place  compares 
favorably  with  that  of  any  similar  institution.  During  the  cholera 
season  of  1849  but  few  cases  occurred  in  the  Tombs,  and  none  of 
them  were  contracted  in  the  place.  This  circumstance  must  not 
be  taken  as  evidence  of  the  healthfulness  of  the  locality.  Nothing 
but  the  unceasing  vigilance  of  the  officers,  and  the  strictest  regard 
to  cleanliness  and  known  sanitary  laws,  preserved  the  general  good 
health  of  the  prisoners. 

The  Tombs  has,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  been  pronounced 
unsafe.  The  walls  in  several  places  are  sunken  to  a  considerable 
extent  Not  many  years  since  a  crack,  fully  four  inches  in  width, 
which  extended  from  the  top  to  the  bottom,  was  discovered  in  one 
of  the  walls.  It  was  occasioned  by  the  sinking  of  some  of  the 
foundation  stones.    This  crack  was  at  the  time  repaired,  making 


♦ 


52  THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 

the  building  look,  to  the  eye,  as  good  as  ever.  Some  day  the 
people  may  be  startled  by  the  announcement  that  the  City  Prison 
has  become  a  Tomb  indeed. 

During  the  last  year  there  were  committed  to  this  Prison  alone 
30,271  prisoners — a  daily  average  of  above  83.  On  the  31st  of 
December,  1872,  there  were  remaining  517  prisoners  in  the  Tombs. 


THE  PILLORY. 


CHAPTER  V  . 


GAMBLING. — AX  ESSAY  BY  A  CONVICT. — LIFE  OF  MULLIGAN. 

"Jacques,"  said  Defarge,  "judiciously  show  a  cat  milk  if  you  wish  her  to  thirst  for 
it — judiciously  show  a  dog  his  natural  prey  if  you  wish  him  to  bring  it  down  one 
day." — Dickens,  in  Tale  of  Two  Cities. 

EVER  since  the  painted  pasteboards  were  invented  for  the  amuse- 
ment of  an  indolent  Spanish  king,  gambling  has  had  a  strong 
hold  on  humanity.  The  turn  of  a  card  has  consequently  been  the 
turn  in  many  a  man's  fortune,  and  more  unwritten  dramas  have  been 
enacted  around  the  green  baize  than  will  be  found  in  all  of  dra- 
matic literature  from  Euripides  down ;  and  siren  as  is  the  voice  of 
Fortune  at  any  time,  it  is  peculiarly  beguiling  when  it  comes  in  the 
shape  of  the  rat-tat-tat  of  a  roulette  ball  or  the  click-click  of  a  faro 
check.  We  all  feel  this  fascination  for  games  of  hazard  at  some 
time  or  other,  and  the  fever  in  the  blood  will  break  out  now  and 
then  in  our  tramp  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  It  makes  no 
difference  whether  it  be  a  toss  of  the  dice  on  a  sweat  cloth  or  a 
flyer  in  Wall  street,  it  is  gambling  all  the  same.  The  "  tiger "  is  a 
chamelion  beast,  and  roams  the  jungle  of  society  in  various  shapes. 
We  may  meet  him  within  the  portal  of  a  church,  where  some  beau- 
tiful and  devout  young  lady  member,  anxious  to  gain  as  many 
dollars  as  possible  during  the  Fair,  raffles  off  a  kiss  at  a  dollar  a 
chance  ;  but  it  is  still  the  tiger,  with  the  prayer  book  in  its  velvet 
paws.  We  see  him  also  on  the  grand  stand  at  the  race  course  ;  at 
the  pool  room  during  election  times ;  -npon  the  Rialto,  where  his 
growl  comes  in  the  form  of  the  gold  indicators  click ;  everywhere, 
in  fact,  where  men  meet,  can  the  tiger  be  seen.  But  whether  the 
wager  be  a  pair  of  kid  gloves  or' a  million  dollars  it  is  all  gambling. 
It  is  a  passion  as  universal  as  that  of  love. 

This  being  the  case,  it  is  not  at  all  unnatural  that  those  who  do 
not  drop  their  money  on  the  magic  cards  themselves,  should  never- 
theless take  an  immense  interest  in  all  stories  connected  with  the 
tiger.  We  find  this  the  most  interesting  kind  of  literature  ;  it  holds 
us  as  did  the  lurid  eye  of  the  Ancient  Mariner  the  gaping  listener 
to  his  fishy  tale.    Knowing  this  weakness  of  our  common  nature, 


54 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


we  propose  to  introduce  the  reader  into  the  chambei  of  horrors 
through  the  ante-room  of  gambling. 

Perhaps  as  good  a  salute  as  any  will  be  an  essay  on  this  particular 
vice  from  the  pen  of  a  convict — a  man  who,  in  his  palmy  days,  had 
an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  tiger,  and  knew  all  the  peculi- 
arities of  that  wonderful  animal.  It  was  written  by  a  graduate  of 
the  New  York  House  of  Eef uge,  and  will  be  found,  we  trust,  an 
entertaining  screed : 

a  gambler's  view  of  gambling. 

It  has  been  said  with  truth  that  a  great  city  is  a  conglomeration 
of  forces,  which,  in  their  action  on  individuals,  are  as  merciless  as 
Niagara.  We  all  know  how  that  gigantic  cataract  rushes  on  to  its 
dizzy  edge.  It  makes  no  difference  to  it  whether  drift  wood  or 
human  beings — whether  boats  or  babies  come  within  its  power; 
its  business  is  to  pour  on  and  roar  on,  and  that  it  does  without  the 
slightest  compunctions  of  conscience.  So,  too,  does  a  great  city 
roar  on  and  rush  on,  without  regard  to  the  fate  of  individuals. 
What  cares  a  great  city  whether  this  man  or  that  is  swept  over  the 
cataract  of  metropolitan  vice,  and  then  swallowed  up  in  the  great 
maelstrom  of  destruction,  which  ever  stretches  its  swirling  gorge 
just  below.  Great  cities  like  New  York  are  crossed  in  every  direc- 
tion by  rapids  of  vice,  and  are  full  of  whirlpools  of  moral  and 
physical  destruction.  I  intend  in  this  article  to  map  out  one  of 
the  most  fearful  maelstroms  that  beset  voyagers — especially  the 
young — as  they  sail  over  the  ocean  of  life.  This  monster  vice  is 
Gambling. 

It  is  of  sucn  hideous  mien  that  it  would  seem  as  if  it  only  needed 
to  be  exposed  to  be  shunned.  Let  the  case  be  fairly  stated,  with- 
out exaggeration  or  any  false  color  being  given  to  the  picture  ;  let 
the  youth  know  beforehand  the  consequences  of  indulging  in  this 
sin — its  effects  upon  his  character,  habits  and  prospects  ;  the  deceits, 
stratagems  and  frauds  connected  with  it ;  the  kindred  vices  into 
which  its  victims  inevitably  fall — and  he  would  no  more  enter  a 
gambling  hell  for  amusement  than  he  would  sport  upon  the  crater 
of  a  raging  volcano.  Men  are  not  so  mad  as  to  ruin  themselves 
deliberately,  and  with  their  eyes  open. 

No  man  becomes  a  professed  gambler  with  the  expectation  of 


EXTERIOR  OF  A  FASHIONABLE  GAMBLING-HELL. 


56 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


blasting  his  hopes,  planting  daggers  in  his  breast,  and  bringing  ruin 
upon  his  head.  The  youth  who  finds  himself  for  the  first  time  in 
a  fashionable  gambling  saloon  has  no  intention  of  shipwrecking  his 
moral  principles,  disappointing  the  cherished  hope  of  friends,  filling 
a  mother's  heart  with  anguish,  and  bringing  down  a  father's  gray 
hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  Convince  him  that  such  will  be 
the  inevitable  end  of  this  night's  beginning,  and  he  will  flee  from 
that  hall  as  he  would  from  the  jaws  of  death.  But  he  has  been 
enticed  there,  and  he  tarries  under  a  fatal  delusion.  His  attention 
is  absorbed  by  the  brilliancy  of  the  scene  the  gay  company,  the 
exhilaration,  the  excitement  connected  with  the  thought  that  he 
may  in  a  few  moments  win  large  sums  of  money.  But  he  knows 
not  where  he  stands.  He  knows  not  that  Hell  here  lies  in  ambush, 
and  nightly  hundreds  of  young  men  are  here  offered  up  to  the 
gigantic  Moloch  of  Play.  He  knows  not  that  he  is  breathing  a 
deadly  atmosphere — as  deadly  as  that  of  the  Upas  valley ;  that 
beneath  the  fair  exterior  and  winning  smiles  of  the  company 
before  him  the  fiercest  passions  are  raging.  He  sees  not  the"  burn- 
ing avarice  which  is  all  aflame  in  every  heart,  which  has  consumed 
to  ashes  all  the  virtues  of  humanity.  All  is  bright  now,  the  dark 
shadows  are  yet  to  come.  Should  this  warning  save  but  one  youth 
from  the  snares  and  fascinations  of  this  vice,  it  will  not  have  been 
written  in  vain. 

In  treating  the  subject  I  will  include  under  the  term  Gambling 
all  games  of  hazard,  whether  played  with  cards,  dice  or  billiard 
balls,  for  money  or  its  equivalent.  The  objections  to  the  system 
apply  to  every  department  of  it,  and  every  avenue  that  leads  to  it 
It  matters  not  how  trivial  is  the  amount  that  is  staked,  or  how  firm 
may  be  one's  resolution  not  to  risk  large  sums,  and  not  to  became 
an  habitual  player,  the  principle  involved,  and  the  dangers  con- 
nected with  the  evil  are  the  same.  The  most  inveterate  gambler, 
who  is  dead  to  all  moral  considerations  and  human  feelings — whose 
swindling  operations  are  carried  on  upon  a  gigantic  scale — com- 
menced his  career  by  playing  for  a  glass  of  wine  or  an  oyster 
supper.  He  perhaps  laughed  at  the  idea  that  he  should  ever  play, 
except  occasionally  for  amusement.  But  once  launched  upon  it, 
he  was  powerless  to  resist  the  force  of  the  current  which  was  sweep- 
ing him  onward  to  the  black  sea  of  infamy. 


THE  GAMBLER'S  FAMILY. 


57 


When  once  the  victim  gives  up  the  plea  of  playing  for  a  small 
stake,  merely  to  give  a  zest  to  the  game,  he  takes  up  the  more 
dangerous  one  of  making  a  business  of  the  matter.  He  never 
acquires  the  wealth  he  aims  at,  for,  as  dupe  after  dupe  is  caught  in 
his  net,  and  their  gold  falls  rattling  into  his  coffers,  his  cry  is  still 
more — more  I 

It  is  true  that  a  few  persons  may  amass  wealth  by  games  of 
chance,  but  every  dollar  is  the  fruit  of  some  one's  toil.  It  is  cover- 
ed with  the  poor  man's  sweat,  the  tears  of  orphans,  the  blood  of 
broken  hearts. 

It  is  found  that  a  gambler  is  rapidly  qualified  for  every  other 
species  of  villany.  The  fiery  excitement  to  which  he  yields  him- 
self in  the  gaming  room  influences  every  other  passion.  It  pro- 
duces a  state  of  mind  that  can  be  satisfied  only  with  intense  and 
forbidden  pleasures.  The  gambler  finds  his  amusement  in  the 
circus,  the  theatre,  the  lascivious  dance,  the  race  course,  and  in 
night  revellings  and  Bacchanalian  feasts.  Ordinary  excitements 
are  insipid  and  stale  in  his  estimation.  He  would  gladly  witness 
as  a  pastime  bull  fights,  pugilistic  encounters,  and,  perhaps,  his 
craving  for  excitement  could  only  be  fully  satisfied  by  scenes  such 
as  the  pagan  Komans  formerly  feasted  their  eyes  upon,  in  which 
men  and  women  were  torn  to  pieces  by  wild  beasts. 

In  this  manner  does  this  great  vice  make  a  Yandal  of  a  man. 
Nor  should  the  youth  forget  that,  if  he  is  once  overtaken  in  its  toils, 
the  hope  of  extricating  himself,  or  of  realizing  his  visions  of  wealth 
and  happiness,  is  exceedingly  faint.  If  he  does  not  become  a  bank- 
rupt in  property  he  is  sure  to  become  one  in  character.  Would 
the  gamester  unlock  the  springs  of  his  heart,  that  he  has  pressed 
down  as  with  iron — would  he  suffer  memory  and  reflection  to  do 
their  work,  what  tragic  pictures  of  life  might  they  paint  for  him. 

The  first  tableau  in  the  series  would  be  One  of  calm  bliss  and 
joy — not  a  cloud  in  the  heavens,  save  that  tinged  and  made  beauti- 
ful by  Hope.  Then  the  scene  changes.  A  tearful  and  deserted 
wife,  with  her  sobbing  child,  keeping  watch  with  her  lone  night 
lamp  until  the  breaking  of  the  morn.  Again  it  changes,  and 
haggard  misery  creeps  into  the  picture.  The  tears  of  starved  and 
shivering  children  embitter  the  cup  which  Fate  presses  to  the  lips 
of  the  gamester.     Once  again  it  changes  and  we  see  a  grave — a 


58 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


green  and  lovely  grave — where  the  faithful  heart  that  loved  him  to 
the  last  sleeps  its  lone  sleep  of  death.  Nature  is  more  kind  to  this 
heaving  mound  than  was  the  husband  to  the  wife  who  lies  beneath 
the  daisies.  The  singing  bird  builds  its  nest  in  the  willow  that 
lovingly  bends  o'er  it ;  the  sunshine  gilds  the  scene  with  its  splendor, 
and  the  rains  of  heaven  fall,  like  tears,  upon  the  hallowed  spot 

"  Dark  is  the  night !  how  dark !  no  light,  no  fire ! 
Cold  on  the  hearth  the  last  faint  sparks  expire. 
Shivering  she  watches  by  the  cradle  side 
For  him  who  pledged  her  love,  last  year,  a  bride. 

Hark !  'tis  his  footstep  !    No,  'tis  past,  it's  gone. 
Tick-tick  I    How  wearily  the  time  crawls  on. 
Why  should  he  leave  me  thus  ?   He  once  was  kind, 
And  I  believed  'twould  last.    How  mad  1  how  blind ! 

Rest  thee,  my  babe  !  rest  on !    'Tis  hunger's  cry. 

Sleep,  for  there  is  no  food !  the  fount  is  dry. 

Famine  and  cold  their  wearying  work  have  done. 

My  heart  must  break  !    And  thou  !    The  clock  strikes  one. 

Hush  !  'tis  the  dice  box ;  yes,  he's  there — he's  there ! 
For  this  he  leaves  me  to  despair. 

Leaves  lovel  leaves  truth!  his  wife!  his  child!  for  what? 
The  wanton's  smile,  the  villain  and  the  sot ! 

Yet  I'll  not  curse  him — no,  'tis  all  in  vain ; 

'Tis  long  to  wait,  but  sure  he'll  come  again. 

And  I  could  starve  and  bless  him  but  for  you, 

My  child — his  child !    Oh.  fiend !    The  clock  strikes  two. 

Hark !  how  the  sign-board  creaks !  the  blast  howls  by. 
Moan  !  moan  !  A  dirge  swells  through  the  cloudy  sky. 
Ha !  'tis  his  knock  !  He  comes — he  comes  once  more! 
'Tis  but  the  lattice  flaps — the  hope  is  o'er. 

Can  he  desert  me  thus?    He  knows  I  stay 

Night  after  night  in  loneliness,  to  pray  * 
For  his  return — yet  he  sees  no  tear  ! 
No  !  no !    It  cannot  be — he  will  be  here. 

Nestle  more  closely,  dear  one,  to  my  heart ; 

Thou'rt  cold  !  thou'rt  freezing !  but  we  will  not  part. 

Husband,  I  die !    Father !    It  is  not  he  ! 

Oh,  God  protect  my  child !    The  clock  strikes  three. 


GAMBLING-  HELLS. 


59 


They're  gone — they're  gone  !  the  glimmering  spark  has  fled; 

The  wife  and  child  are  numbered  with  the  dead ! 

On  the  cold  floor,  outstretched  in  solemn  rest. 

The  babe  lay  frozen  on  its  mother's  breast  I 

The  gambler  came  at  last,  but  all  was  o'er. 

Dread  silence  reigned  around    The  clock  struck  four." 

Gambling  leads  to  intemperance.  The  intoxicating  cup  is  the 
natural  refuge  of  the  gamester.  All  the  large  gambling  establish- 
ments are  furnished  with  private  bars.  Here  many  young  men  are 
induced,  for  the  first  time,  to  put  the  wine  cup  to  their  lips.  A 
delicious  supper  is  also  spread  nightly.  The  choicest  viands,  the 
rarest  game,  the  most  expensive  liquors  grace  the  board.  Tinted 
chandeliers  throw  a  mellow  light  over  the  scene.  The  foot  falls 
noiselessly  upon  soft  carpets,  and  the  eye  is  enchanted  with  the 
superb  pictures  hung  around  the  room.  There  is  no  noise,  save  the 
muttered  exclamations  of  the  players  and  the  clicking  of  the  ivory 
chips.  Can  it  be  wondered  at  that  this  scene  should  seem  fascina- 
ting to  the  young  man  just  entering  upon  his  metropolitan  life. 

It  was  the  boast  of  the  famous  Crockford,  of  London,  who  kept 
a  magnificent  gambling  house,  that  he  ruined  a  nobleman  every  day. 
May  not  the  keepers  of  the  gambling  hells  in  New  York  and  other 
large  cities  boast  that  they  ruin  some  noble  youth — some  son  of 
hope  and  promise — every  day. 

Most  truly  has  the  gaming  salon  been  denominated  a  hell.  It  is 
a  hell  of  fierce  passions,  of  wrecked  hopes  and  agonizing  tortures — 
a  hell  where  fiends  congregate,  and  foul  deeds  are  plotted  and 
accomplished.  Could  the  malice,  rage,  deceit,  remorse  and  despair 
that  are  found  within  its  walls  be  embodied  in  tangible  shape,  and 
their  ghostly  forms  move  around  the  table — could  the  spirit  of 
departed  victims  but  return  and  utter  their  wild  execrations  against 
the  villains  who  ensnared  them — could  the  cries  of  wives  and  starv- 
ing children  echo  through  the  brilliant  saloons,  would  not  the, 
gamesters  be  startled  from  their  gayeties,  and  look  with  horror 
upon  the  spectal  forms  around  them  ?  Would  not  the  bloated 
inebriate,  the  hoary  blasphemer,  the  keen  swindler,  the  merciless 
destroyer  of  the  innocent  turn  pale  and  tremble  in  view  of  the 
doom  that  awaited  him  ? 

They  are  indeed  hells,  and  their  keepers  are  indeed  monsters — 
men  who  have  been  known  to  kick  from  their  doors  the  unfortu- 


60 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


nate  from  whom  no  more  money  could  be  fleeced,  who  have  abso- 
lutely left  those  by  whom  they  have  been  enriched  to  perish  by 
cold,  hunger  or  suicide. 

Gambling  naturally  leads  to  murder  and  suicide.  Under  this 
head  might  be  presented  a  long  and  dark  catalogue  of  crimes.  I 
can  point  to  no  less  than  four  of  my  boyish  companions  who  became 
murderers  in  their  young  manhood,  because  they  were  demoralized 
by  the  vices  and  associations  of  the  gambling  room.  Two  of  these 
are  serving  out  life  sentences  in  State  Prisons,  and  two  of  them 


A  GAMBLING  SALOON. 


were  hanged — one  in  Pennsylvania  and  one  in  New  York  I  can. 
not  think  of  one  of  the  latter  unfortunates  without  feelings  of  deep 
grief  Alas !  poor  Jerry.  My  best  friend  in  my  boyish  days,  at 
the  New  York  House  of  Refuge,  studying  in  the  same  class,  and 
playing  the  same  pranks  on  the  tutor.  He  was  a  fine  looking, 
curly  headed  boy,  and  was  an  universal  favorite  with  his  young 
companions.  Graduating  from  the  Refuge,  he  grew  up,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  a  wild  young  man ;  but  he  was  as  generous  and  kind 
hearted  as  he  was  wild. 


THE  RESULT  OF  GAMBLING. 


01 


He  was  induced  by  a  friend  to  visit  a  gambling  hell,  and  from 
that  day  became  a  victim  to  the  gaming  table,  and  all  the  hellish 
passions  and  vices  that  are  fostered  by  gamblers.  When  luck 
went  against  him  he  took  to  stealing,  and  so  between  gambling  and 
stealing  he  spent  his  time. 

About  this  time  he  became  acquainted  with  a  young  woman,  and 
she  promised  to  marry  him ;  but  a  fellow  gambler  and  thief  won  the 
girl  away  from  poor  Jerry,  and  this  was  the  blow  which  crushed  him. 
Maddened  by  liquor,  and  chafing  under  the  wrong  done  him  by  a 
man  in  whom  he  had  confidence,  he  sought  immediate  revenge. 
Arming  himself  with  a  huge  knife,  he  went  to  the  man's  room  with 
the  intention  of  killing  him,  but  instead  of  finding  him  there  he 
found  his  unfaithful  sweetheart.  His  brain  was  all  on  fire  with 
rum,  and  in  a  sudden  burst  of  passion  he  stabbed  the  girl  whom  he 
had  so  sincerely  loved  The  girl  died  almost  immediately,  and  poor 
Jerry  was  tried,  convicted  and  hanged.  He  had  a  dear  old  mother, 
loving  sisters,  and  many  kind  friends,  but  they  were  powerless  to 
avert  his  doom.  In  the  Tombs,  on  the  morning  of  his  execution, 
his  mother  and  sisters  came  to  take  farewell  of  Jerry.  He  was 
still  the  cherished  treasure  of  his  mother's  heart ;  still  the  idol  of 
his  sisters.  They  loved  him  none  the'  less  for  his  misfortunes. 
They  clasped  him  closer  to  their  breasts  because  he  was  condemned 
of  the  world.  It  is  said  the  most  affecting  scene  which  ever  took 
place  in  the  Tombs  happened  then  and  there,  when  the  mother  and 
sisters  were  told  they  must  bid  him  farewell.  The  very  officials  of 
the  Tombs,  who  are  used  to  such  scenes,  could  not  but  weep  like 
little  children.  Again  and  again  did  the  mother  embrace  her 
curly  headed  boy  and  say  farewell.  The  sisters'  grief  had  made 
them  dumb,  and  they  stood  weeping  their  very  souls  into  their  eyes. 
But  the  final  moment  came  at  last,  and  the  women,  blinded  by  tears, 
were  almost  carried  away. 

I  could  also  mention  many  young  men  whose  lives  have  been 
wrecked,  and  whose  death  has  been  that  of  the  suicide ;  but  why 
enlarge  upon  the  dreadful  story.  I  trust  that  enough  has  been 
said  to  bring  vividly  before  the  inexperienced  youth  the  horrors 
of  this  dreadful  vice.  I  could  number,  also,  scores  of  men  now 
dragging  out  felons'  dreary  lives  in  the  State  Prisons  of  the  country. 
The  wine  cup  slays  its  thousands,  gambling  its  tens  of  thousands. 


02 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


Yes,  gambling  destroys  the  soul — it  breaks  down  the  moral 
principles,  deadens  the  conscience,  and  severs  every  tie  that  binds 
man  to  his  Creator.  It  leaves  him  without  hope  and  without  God 
in  the  world — a  poor  outcast  from  the  sympathies  and  promises  of 
Heaven — a  wanderer  upon  a  bleak  and  desolate  creation.  No  stars 
of  hope  light  up  his  pathway  through  life.  He  neither  seeks  the 
joys  of  Paradise  nor  fears  the  fires  of  Hell.  The  approach  of  Death 
does  not  startle  him — the  darkness  and  silence  of  the  grave  do  not 
terrify  him. 

As  a  fit  finale  to  this  gloomy  chapter  I  will  tell  the  story  of 
Billy  Mulligan's  life,  a  noted  gambler  of  this  city,  and  his  attempt 
at  murder  in  a  faro  bank. 

William,  or  Billy  Mulligan,  as  he  was  commonly  called,  was  a 
man  of  small  stature,  but  as  desperate  a  character  as  could  be  found 
among  the  rowdy  element  of  New  York.  He  was  a  professional 
blackleg,  and,  like  the  rest  of  his  kidney,  always  dressed  in  clothes 
of  the  finest  texture,  although  rather  loud  and  flashy  in  their 
pattern,  style  and  general  appearance.  At  the  breaking  out  of  the 
gold  fever  he  went  to  California,  where  he  gave  full  play  to  his 
native  ferocity,  and  was  concerned  in  many  brawls  and  bar  room 
fights,  during  which  he  made  free  use  of  the  knife  and  pistol, 
weapons  which  he  would  use  on  the  slightest  provocation,  real  or 
fancied.  He  soon  earned  an  unenviable  notoriety,  and  receiving  a 
pressing  invitation  to  leave  the  place,  he  returned  to  the  city,  where 
he  engaged  in  the  only  pastime — gambling — for  which  he  seemed 
to  have  any  inclination.  He  one  evening  entered  one  of  the  most 
fashionable  hells  on  Broadway,  where,  becoming  involved  in  a  dis- 
pute with  one  of  the  men  of  the  house,  he  drew  his  pistol  and 
attempted  to  shoot  him.  For  this  he  was  arrested  and,  sent  to  the 
Tombs.  He  was  tried  for  the  offence,  convicted,  and  was  sent  to 
the  State  Prison  for  two  years. 

During  his  incarceration  in  the  Tombs  he  was  frequently  visited 
by  a  handsome  young  woman,  who  was  possessed  of  some  money 
and  considerable  jewelry — diamonds,  etc. — which  she  sacrificed  to 
meet  the  expenses  of  Mulligan's  trial.  On  the  evening  preceding 
his  departure  for  Sing  Sing  she  called  upon  him,  and  in  so  many 
.words  offered  to  marry  him.  He  consented.  The  knot  was  tied 
by  Judge  Brennan,  who  at  that  time  was  on  the  bench.    The  next 


BILLY  MULLIGAN.  63 

day  they  started  on  their  wedding  tour  for  Sing  Sing,  the  bride 
manifesting  a  devotion  such  as  woman  only  knows.  Mulligan  did 
not  remain  long  in  prison.  After  he  had  been  there  about  three 
months  he  was  pardoned.  In  spite  of  the  devotion  of  his  wife,  and 
all  she  had  done  for  him,  he  deserted  her  on  his  release  from  jail 
and  returned  to  California,  where,  getting  into  trouble,  he  was 
ordered  to  be  arrested.  He  was  pursued  by  the  officers  into  a 
house,  into  which  he  barricaded  himself.     When  the  officers 


A  BAR  ROOM  VICTIM. 


approached  he  made  a  desperate  resistance,  firing  several  shots 
through  the  window  at  the  crowd  below,  one  of  which  took  effect 
The  door  was  forced  only  to  find  Mulligan  at  the  head  of  the  stairs 
with  a  revolver  in  his  hand  He  had  evidently  made  up  his  mind 
not  to  be  taken  alive. 

At  length,  seeing  there  was  no  other  alternative,  and  really  in 
self-defence,  one  of  the  officers  drew  his  pistol  and  shot  him,  kill- 
ing him  instantly.    Few  mourned  his  loss. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


COLT'S    CASE. — THE    MURDER    OF    SAMUEL    ADAMS. — THE  DEATH 

GRAPPLE    IN    COLT'S    OFFICE.  SHIPPING    THE    BODY    TO  NEW 

ORLEANS. — DETECTION,  ARREST,  THE  TOMBS. — THE  WEDDING  IN 
THE  CELL.  SUICIDE  OF  COLT. 

"  The  hand  had  shut  upon  it  tight,  with  that  rigidity  of  grasp  with  which  no 
living  man,  in  the  full  strength  and  energy  of  life,  can  clutch  a  prize  he  has  won. 
They  dragged  him  out  into  the  dark  street,  but  jury,  judge  and  hangman  could  have 
done  no  more,  and  could  do  nothing  now.    Dead,  dead,  dead!" — Dickens,  in  Martin 

Chuzzlewit. 

f\K  the  afternoon  of  Friday,  the  17th  day  of  September,  1841, 
Mr.  John  C.  Colt,  a  professional  book-keeper,  and  teacher  of 
ornamental  penmanship,  was  sitting  in  his  office,  which  was  in  the 
granite  building  at  the  corner  of  Chambers  street  and  Broadway. 
Tlie  bnilding  still  stands,  and  is  occupied  by  Delmonico  as  a  restau- 
rant. Mr.  Colt's  office  was  on  the  second  floor,  looking  out  upon 
Chambers  street 

In  an  adjoining  room  a  Mr.  Wheeler,  also  a  book-keeper,  was 
sitting  at  work.    With  him  was  a  young  lad,  a  pupil  of  his. 

It  was  between  three  and  four  o'clock,  and  at  that  very  moment 
there  was  walking  to  the  building  a  man  who  was  walking  to  his 
death.    That  man  was  Samuel  Adams,  a  printer. 

Colt  was  engaged  in  writing  a  work  on  book-keeping  and  Adams 
was  printing  it.  There  was  a  balance  of  money  due  by  the  author 
to  the  latter,  and  Adams  was  coming  to  see  Colt  about  the  ac- 
counts. 

On  he  came — into  the  entrance,  up  the  stairs,  into  the  room. 
He  sat  down  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  to  Colt,  and  the  two 
began  an  argument  about  the  amount  of  money  due  from  one  to 
the  other. 

A  small  hammer,  or  axe,  lay  upon  the  table. 
The  different  opinions  held  by  the  two  about  the  debt  led  to  il] 
feeling.    Argument  became  abuse. 


FOUR  YEARS  AT  MNG  SING. 


577 


In  an  almost  inaudible  voice,  and  with  bowed  head,  he  re- 
plied, "  I  have  nothing  to  say." 

Judge  Davis,  in  a  deep,  stern  tone,  then  passed  sentence,  as 
follows : — 

In  rendering  this  verdict  the  jury  Lave  exceeded,  and  more 
than  exceeded,  all  the  mercy  that  should  be  extended.  No  appeal 
to  this  Court  can  diminish  the  sentences  below  the  highest  pen- 
alty fixed  by  statute  to  the  degree  in  which  you  are  convicted, 
and  that  is  apparently  slight  when  compared  to  trie  great  crime 
yon  have  committed.  I  do  not  desire  to  make  any  further  re- 
marks in  this  case,  but  shall  impose  upon  you  all  the  punishment 
that  the  law  authorizes,  only  regretting  that  the  sentence  cannot 
be  more  adequate  to  the  awful  Clime  that  rests  upon  your  guilty 
head.  The  sentence  of  the  Court  is  that  you  be  imprisoned  in 
the  State  Prison  at  Sing  Sing  at  hard  labor  for  the  term  of  four 
years. 

Stokes  received  the  sentence  with  a  fortitude  that  astonished 
nearly  everybody.  At  first  his  head  was  bowed  down,  but  at 
length  he  straightened  up,  and  at  the  close  showed  no  feeling. 

Thus  ended,  on  the  2(Jth  of  October,  1873,  the  trial  of  Edward 
S.  Stokes  for  the  killing  of  James  Fisk,  Jr.  The  various  trials  ; 
the  opinions  of  the  judges  and  counsel  who  were  successively 
engaged  therein  ;  the  deliberations  of  the  juries  and  the  verdicts 
they  rendered,  form  a  chapter  in  the  history  of  the  causes  celebres 
of  criminal  trials  that  will  not  soon  be  forgotten.  The  verdict 
gave  general  satisfaction  to  everybody  except  the  friends  of  Fisk, 
and  the  prisoner  himself.  Stokes's  counsel  and  friends  considered 
him  a  fortunate  man,  but  Stokes  felt  that  he  should  have  been 
accpiitted.  He  alone  knows  the  causes  that  led  to  the  fatal  en- 
counter, and  as  a  jury  of  his  countrymen  have  decided  his  crime 
was  manslaughter,  he  cannot  longer  stand  accused  as  a  murderer. 
Some  scandal  was  provoked  after  the  trial  was  ended  by  the  con- 
duct of  one  of  the  jurors. 

By  the  kindness  of  the  Court  he  had  been  allowed  an  oppor- 
tunity to  transact  some  private  business.  This  privilege  he 
abused,  and  he  used  it  to  declare  his  determination  that  he  in- 
tended to  save  Stokes  from  the  ignominy  of  capital  punishment. 
The  phraseology  he  used  was  not  so  refined  as  this,  but  that  was 

37 


578 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


the  meaning  of  what  he  said.  Deputy  Sheriff  French,  who  had 
this  juror  in  charge,  stated  that  he  and  the  juror  visited  Bryant's 
Minstrels,  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  and  other  notable  places 
where  convivial  parties  congregate.  In  the  hearing  of  a  miscel- 
laneous company  the  juror  declared  that  Stokes  should  never  be 
convicted.  This  fact  was  substantiated  on  the  testimony  of  more 
than  one  witness,  whose  evidence  was  furnished  to  the  proper 
legal  authorities. 


THE  SOCIAL  GLASS  AT  DAILY'S. 


A  few  days  following  the  conviction  of  Stokes  he  was  brought 
before  Judge  Davis  and  committed  to  the  Tombs  for  contempt  of 
court,  where  he  was  detained  for  sixty  days  and  compelled  to  pay 
a  light  fine.  He  occupied  the  cell  vacated  by  Stokes.  Warden 
Johnson,  between  Stokes  and  whom  there  was  not  the  most 
amiable  feeling,  now  that  Stokes  had  been  condemned,  removed 
him  to  a  cell  on  the  ground-floor,  there  to  await  his  transfer  to 
the  State  Prison. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  Nov.  1st,  three  days  after  his  convic- 
tion, Deputy  Sheriffs  Shields  and  Cahill  called  at  the  cell-door 


ACCEPTS  THE  SITUATION. 


579 


of  Stokes,  and  told  him  to  prepare  for  his  departure  to  Sing  Sing. 
Stokes  was  surprised,  believing  he  would  be  allowed  a  longer 
time  to  make  his  final  arrangements,  but  he  never  murmured. 
Stoical  to  the  last,  he  hastily  gathered  together  his  papers  bear- 
ing on  his  case,  many  of  which  were  documents  the  world  had 
not  yet  heard  of,  and  stepped  out  in  the  corridor.    He  lit  a  cigar 


A  CONVICT  AT  THE  HOSPITAL  WINDOW. 


and  stood  with  his  back  to  the  stove,  coolly  anticipating  the  first 
act  of  degradation  that  was  to  remind  him  that  he  was  now  a  felon. 
The  deputy,  who  had  walked  many  a  mile  with  him  in  the 
Tombs  yard,  while  taking  his  daily  exercise,  approached  him 
with  the  handcuffs,  and  as  Stokes  put  out  his  arm  and  bared  his 
wrist,  he  looked  up  to  the  skylight  to  conceal  his  emotion.  The 


580 


STOKES  LEAVES  THE  PESTILENTIAL  TOMBS. 


MAP   OF    "COLLECT   POND,"    GIVING    THE  PRESENT  SITE  OF  THE    "  TOMBS," 
AS  DRAWN  BY  JOHN  CANTER,  THE  COUNTERFEITER. — SEE  PAGE  259. 


AS  A  SING  SING  CONVICT. 


581 


glistening  bracelet  snapped  with  a  sharp  click,  and  a  shock  like 
that  from  an  electric  battery  shook  his  frame.  The  steel  that 
encircled  his  wrist  had  sent  its  cold  embrace  to  his  heart,  and 
Stokes,  for  the  first  time  since  the  fatal  encounter  with  Fisk, 
realized  that  he  was  now  an  outlaw  from  society  and  the  world. 
Stokes  bade  a  hasty  good-by  to  some  of  the  prisoners  who  were 
standing  on  the  corridor  above,  and  crossed  the  yard  that  led  to 
the  prison  entrance. 

Arriving  at  the  Sing  Sing  Prison  he  donned  the  repulsive  cos- 
tume that  was  handed  to  him,  and  was  soon  lost  to  view  in  a  com- 
munity of  outlaws. 

So  much  has  been  published  regarding  Stokes  and  his  crime ; 
we  being  acquainted  with  him  previous  to  his  troubles,  and  desir- 
ous of  adding  to  this  chapter  something  authentic  regarding  his 
intimacy  with  Fisk  and  Miss  Mansfield,  called  on  him  at  the 
Prison  and  requested  an  interview.  He  met  us  with  his  usual 
courtesy  and  discussed  every  event  preceding  the  fatal  tragedy. 
We  found  him  on  the  top  floor  of  the  hospital,  officiating  as 
clerk  of  prison  register.  Here  on  an  old-fashioned  desk  were 
a  number  of  standard  books  which  already  showed  signs  of  much 
handling.  Stokes  was  in  the  prison  garb  and  was  already  show- 
ing the  effects  of  his  imprisonment.  His  hair  was  quite  gray, 
and,  contrasted  with  his  olive  complexion  and  black  eyes,  gave 
him  a  decidedly  distingue  air ;  closely  shaven,  he  needed  but  a 
cowl  to  give  him  the  exact  resemblance  of  a  Franciscan  monk. 
There  was  yet  perceptible  some  of  the  hauteur  that  characterized 
him  during  his  trial,  but  his  imprisonment  evidently  wears  on 
him.  He  cheerfully  performs  his  duties,  and  has  already  gained 
the  respect  of  the  officials.  Warden  Hubbell  has  advanced  ideas 
on  the  treatment  of  prisoners,  which  may  yet  be  adopted  in  all 
prisons.  There  are  those  in  Sing  Sing  who  are  not  curbed  and 
scourged.  Stokes  is  one  of  them.  The  warden  thinks  that  there 
should  be  gradation  in  punishment,  and  that  different  organiza- 
tions require  different  treatment,  and  he  acts  accordingly.  At 
our  solicitation  Stokes  has  written  his  own  story,  and  we  give  it 
in  the  Appendix. 


CHAPTER  XL. 


THE  STATE  PRISON  AT  SENG  SIXG — ITS  ORIGIN  CAPACITY  DISCIPLINE, 

ETC.,  ETC. 

"  That  he  should,  for  a  term  of  years,  reside  in  a  spacious  mansion  whdre 
several  other  gentlemen  were  lodged  and  boarded  at  the  public  charge  .... 
had  their  hair  cut  extremely  short,  and  chiefly  lived  on  gruel  and  light  soup." 

Dickens,  in  Old  Curiosity  Shop. 

PBEVIOUS  to  1828,  the  two  prisons  of  the  State  were  located, 
one  in  the  city  of  New  York,  the  other  in  the  village  of  Au- 
burn. That  in  New  York,  popularly  known  as  "  Newgate,"  was 
on  the  block  bounded  by  Amos,  Christopher,  and  Washington 
streets  on  the  north,  east  and  south,  and  by  the  North  Kiver 
(now  West  street)  on  the  west.  The  old  prison  stands  there  to-day, 
outwardly  as  it  was  then,  except  that  workshops  and  tenement 
houses,  and  eating-saloons  and  rum-shops  have  covered  the  va- 
cant spaces  that  once  spread  away  from  three  sides  of  it.  It  was 
first  opened  as  a  prison  on  the  25th  of  November,  1797 — convicts, 
previous  to  that  time,  being  confined  in  the  county  jails  of  the  sever- 
al counties  where  they  were  tried  and  convicted.  It  was  of  the 
Doric  order  of  architecture,  and  contained  fifty  rooms,  twelve  by 
eighteen  feet  in  the  clear;  besides  cells  for  solitary  confinement, 
kitchens,  offices,  and  workshops.  Its  capacity  was  the  safe  and 
proper  accommodation  of  not  to  exceed  four  hundred  ;  but  the 
records  show  that  at  times  there  were  more  than  double  that 
number  within  its  walls.  It  was  surrounded  by  a  high  wall,  and, 
until  it  was  finally  abandoned,  that  wall,  and  what  it  enclosed, 
with  the  cry  of  ".Old  Hays,"  had  more  terrors  for  the  boys  of  those 
days  than  fills  the  boys  of  to-day,  with  the  Municipal  Police 
in  full  chase,  and  the  Tombs,  the  State  Prison,  or  the  Gallows, 
in  the  foreground. 

At  last  the  crowded  condition  of  "  Newgate  "  so  forced  itself 
r  upon  the  public  attention,  that  the  Legislature,  on  the  7th  of 
March,  1824,  passed  an  act  providing  for  the  appointment  of 
Commissioners  to  select  a  proper  site  for  another  penal  institu- 


SYSTEMS  OF  GOVERNMENTS. 


583 


tion,  and  to  adopt  a  system  and  provide  for  the  erection  of  suit- 
able buildings.  Under  that  act  Stephen  Allen,  Samuel  Miles 
Hopkins,  and  George  Tibbits  were  appointed  commissioners. 

At  that  time  there  was  much  discussion,  and  consequent  divi- 
sion of  opinion,  as  to  the  relative  merits  of  three  systems  of  prison 
government.  The  first  was  the  continuously  isolated  and  non- 
laboring  system  of  Pennsylvania ;  the  second  was  the  triple  or 
quartette  occupancy  of  large  cells,  with  such  labor  as  could  be 
adapted  to  small  rooms,  as  practised  at  "  Xewgate ; "  the  third 
was  what  has  since  become  known  as  the  "  Auburn  "  system,  which 
is  a  combination  of  the  two  first,  viz. :  solitary  confinement  at 
night  and  through  Sunday,  and  constant  silent  or  non -intercourse 
labor  in  large  shops. 

The  commissioners  were  thinking,  deliberate  men,  and  puzzled 
as  only  thinking  and  deliberate  men  can  be  by  the  facts  and  argu- 
ments of  the  contestants.  The  advocates  of  the  solitary,  non- 
laboring  system  professed  little  regard  for  either  the  moral  condi- 
tion or  physical  comfort  of  the  felon.  With  them  it  was  a  naked 
proposition  to  kill  or  cure,  and  they  came  boldly  to  the  front  with 
a  plan  to  locate  the  prison  on  Bedloe's  Island,  and  to  build  and 
conduct  it  upon  the  system  that  a  felon  once  within  its  walls  should 
see  no  living  being  except  his  keeper  until  he  had  served  out  the 
period  of  his  incarceration.  lie  was  to  be  turned  inward  upon 
himself — to  be  allowed  to  commune  only  with  his  own  thoughts. 

It  is  more  than  probable  that  these  views  would  have  eventually 
prevailed  had  not  the  advocates  of  what  was  claimed  to  be  the  more 
humane  system  linked  with  their  other  arguments  the  alluring 
theory  that  felons  should  and  could  be  made  to  pay  their  way, 
and  also  contribute  to  the  public  treasury.  They  not  only  ad- 
vanced the  theory,  but  they  professed  to  be  able  to  point  out  the 
unquestioned  road  to  success.  About  thirty-three  miles  from  ]Sew 
York,  on  the  east  bank  of  the  Hudson,  was  a  partially  developed 
strata  of  white  marble  that  was  known  to  be  inexhaustible.  The 
State  should  buy  this — set  its  convicts  to  work  drilling  and  blast- 
ing, and  hammering  and  chiselling — and  so  the  city  would  soon 
become  one  vast  expanse  of  marble  palaces,  at  a  cost  that  would 
hardly  exceed  that  of  the  adobe  huts  of  the  Aztecs,  while  the 
State  treasury  would  grow  so  plethoric  as  to  warrant  the  early 


584: 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


discharge  of  the  inevitable  tax  gatherer.  The  friends  of  human- 
ity computed  the  thousands  of  millions  of  billions  of  feet  and 
yards  and  tons  of  the  raw  material  that  lay  embedded  in  those 
everlasting  hills  ;  they  had  the  exact  cost  of  maintaining  a  felon 
twenty-four  hours  ;  they  knew  to  a  feather's  weight  just  how  much 
marble  he  could  delve  out ;  it  would  by  natural  gravitation  slide 
down  the  hillside  to  large  barges  that  would  be  waiting  to  receive 
it,  and  thence  go  floating  with  the  tide  down  to  the  growing 
white  metropolis  of  the  western  world.  Honest  citizens  would 
henceforth  dwell  in  marble  halls  that  knaves  would  shape  from 
the  great  limestone  formation  which  nature  had  so  temptingly 
located  on  the  very  confines  of  the  city. 

The  Commissioners  might — and  doubtless  would — have  turned 
a  cold  shoulder  towards  the  humanitarian,  but  they  could  not 
resist  the  economist  and  his  statistics.  They  negotiated  with  the 
owner  of  this  marble  El  Dorado  for  the  purchase  of  his  farm, 
which  they  obtained  at  what  then  was  a  fair  price  for  farming 
land.  It  contained  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  acres  of  rough, 
unimproved  land,  on  which  was  a  large  dwelling,  of  most  fan- 
tastic design  and  construction,  since  known  as  the  State  House, 
and  which  for  several  years  was  used  as  the  residences  of  those 
connected  with  the  prison. 

Capt.  El  am  Lynds  was  then  the  Principal  Keeper  in  charge  of 
the  discipline  of  the  Auburn  Prison.  He  was  ordered  to  detail 
one  hundred  from  the  convicts  in  that  institution,  with  the  priv- 
ilege of  selecting  such  persons  as  he  thought  fit  for  keepers  and 
guards,  and  with  this  force  proceed  to  the  new  location  at  Sing 
Sing,  and  commence  with  the  construction  of  a  prison  capable 
of  accommodating  six  hundred  inmates  upon  the  plan  of  the 
Auburn  system,  viz.,  a  separate  cell  for  each  convict. 

Capt.  Lynds  had  been  a  commissioned  officer  in  the  United 
States  Army,  and  was  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  views  of 
discipline  which  at  that  time  characterized  the  regular  service. 
His  will  was  a  law  of  itself,  which  he  never  permitted  to  be  violated 
by  any  subordinate — citizen  or  convict.  Clothed  with  ample 
powers  to  purchase  materials,  and  urged  to  prosecute  with  un- 
ceasing vigor  the  construction  of  the  new  buildings,  he  and  his 
party  landed  at  Sing  Sing  on  the  morning  of  the  14th  of  May, 


AUBURN  CONVICTS  BUILD  SING  SING  PRISON. 


585 


1825,  and  proceeded  at  once  to  work.  Before  night  barracks 
had  been  erected  capable  of  sheltering  men  and  provisions  and 
implements,  and  in  twenty-four  hours  he  had  commenced  blast- 
ing out  material  for  the  proposed  structure.  From  that  day 
until  May,  1828,  when  six  hundred  cells  had  been  completed, 
officers  and  men  continued  in  unpausing  labor — held  under  their 
accustomed  discipline  by  the  vigilant  eye  and  unrelaxing  hand 
of  the  master  spirit.  The  convicts  moved  from  Auburn  had 
been  chosen  for  their  physical  power,  regardless  of  their  moral 
standing  in  the  prison — there  was  no  enclosure  to  restrain  them 
— they  were  in  the  open  fields,  guarded  by  less  than  one-tenth 
of  their  own  number,  and  yet  from  the  day  they  left  the  cells  at 
Auburn  until  they  had  finished  the  cells  that  were  to  entomb 
them  at  Sing  Sing,  there  was  not  one  attempt  at  escape,  and  no 
infraction  of  discipline  that  called  from  the  master  spirit  a  more 
harsh  admonition  than  the  single  word  "  Beware  !  "  The  moral 
energy  of  that  one  man  was  sufficient  to  awe  into  subjection  the 
most  turbulent,  while  the  most  desperate  were  hardly  rash  enough 
to  provoke  a  contest  which  they  well  knew  would  be  "  short, 
sharp  and  decisive." 

The  original  plan  of  the  prison  called  for  a  building  five  hun- 
dred and  forty  feet  long,  forty  feet  wide,  and  three  stories  high, 
which  gave  six  hundred  cells.  These  were  in  blocks,  divided  by 
an  arch  or  passage-way  in  the  centre,  and  having  stairs  at  each 
end  of  each  block.  The  cells  are  back  to  back,  and  encased  by  a 
wall  (pierced  with  a  small  opening  in  front  of  each  cell),  which 
supports  the.  roof.  Before  the  roof  was  finished  it  was  ascer- 
tained that  the  accommodations  were  entirely  inadequate,  and 
therefore  a  fourth  story  was  added.  Subsequently  two  additional 
stories  have  been  added,  so  that  at  this  time  there  are  twelve 
hundred  cells — six  hundred  in  each  block.  These  cells  are  seven 
feet  in  depth,  by  seven  in  height,  by  three  and  a  half  in  width  in 
the  clear.  The  dividing  walls  are  eighteen  inches  thick,  and  the 
ceiling  stones  about  a  like  thickness — the  same  stone  forming 
the  ceiling  of  one  cell  and  the  floor  of  the  one  above  it.  The 
cells  are  approached  by  galleries,  now  sustained  by  iron  brackets 
let  into  the  masonry.  There  is  a  clear  space  of  seven  feet  be- 
tween these  galleries  and  the  outer  shell.    The  cells  are  closed 


5S6 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


with  grated  doors  one-half  their  width.  Those  in  the  south  block 
are  each  locked  separately ;  those  in  the  north  block  are  locked 
in  divisions  of  fifty  each,  by  a  lever  working  a  bar,  to  which  are 
attached  fifty  bolts,  one  of  which  fits  into  an  eye  on  each  door. 
If  all  the  doors  are  not  closed  the  lever  will  not  work.  The  lever 
being  down,  is  fastened  in  place  by  an  intricate  combination  lock. 

When  the  first  six  hundred  cells  were  completed,  and  also 
suitable  buildings  for  offices,  kitchens,  hospitals,  guardhouse,  store- 
house, and  a  residence  for  the  principal  keeper,  the  convicts  from 
"  Newgate "  were  removed  to  the  new  quarters,  and  that  prison 
abandoned  and  sold. 

OFFICERS  OF  THE  PRISON. 

When  the  city  prison  was  abandoned,  and  its  inmates  trans- 
ferred to  the  Sing  Sing  prison,  the  management  or  general  direc- 
tion of  the  latter  was  nominally  vested  in  a  Board  of  Inspectors, 
composed  of  five  persons  appointed  by  the  Governor  and  con- 
firmed by  the  Senate.  Three  of  these  were  required  by  law  to 
be  residents  of  the  town  in  which  the  prison  was  located,  and  two 
could  be  chosen  from  the  State  at  lar^e.  They  were  authorized  to 
appoint  an  Agent,  a  Principal  Keeper,  Clerk,  Chaplain,  Architect, 
and  such  number  of  Keepers  and  Guards  as  they  deemed  requi- 
site, not  exceeding  one  of  each  to  every  twenty-five  men.  The 
highest  salary  paid  was  §1,000  per  annum  to  the  Principal 
Keeper,  and  the  privilege  of  a  house  with  lights  and  fuel.  Medi- 
cal attendance  was  provided  by  a  physician  resident  in  the  adja- 
cent village,  who  paid  a  daily  visit,  at  the  munificent  compensa- 
tion of  8300  per  year.  For  many  years  this  daily  service  was 
rendered  by  Dr.  Adrian  K.  Hoffman,  father  of  the  late  governor. 

In  practice,  until  1S43,  the  Inspectors  had  little  to  do  with  the 
internal  affairs  of  the  prison,  beyond  the  appointment  of  the 
principal  otficers.  The  Agent  purchased  the  supplies,  and  the 
Principal  Keeper  had  an  almost  exclusive  charge  of  the  discipline. 
The  Inspectors  were  generally  men  of  respectability  and  worth, 
and  that  was  all.  In  the  list  of  names,  until  the  period  above 
named,  there  is  hardly  one  that  was  ever  heard  of  beyond  the 
locality.    In  !Si3,  Governor  Bouck,  by  some  strange  departure 


judge  edmonds'  administration. 


537 


from  the  regular  custom,  chose  to  nominate  as  the  two  non-resi- 
dent Inspectors  Hon.  John  W.  Edmonds,  of  New  York,  and  Gen. 
Thornton  M.  Xiven,  of  Orange.  The  latter  was  in  a  short  time 
succeeded  by  lion.  John  Bigelow,  then  just  commencing  public 
life. 

From  the  advent  of  these  men,  the  Inspectors  have  more  and 
absolutely  assumed  control  of  the  details  of  the  management, 
and  absorbed  the  powers  and  privileges  of  the  subordinates. 
Judge  Edmonds  came  to  the  prison  as  the  advocate  and  represen- 
tative of  the  views  of  prison  reform  or  system  of  discipline  and 
treatment  then  being  advanced  by  the  Prison  Association  ;  affd  as 
he  was  a  man  not  easily  argued  out  of  a  position  or  swerved  from  a 
purpose,  he  succeeded  in  grasping  full  control  and  insuring  the 
adoption  of  his  views.  During  his  administration  the  government 
became  most  thoroughly  that  of  the  Board,  and  so  continued — 
though,  with  perhaps  one  or  two  exceptions,  the  members  of  the 
Board  have  never  been  marked  for  theoretical  or  executive  capa- 
city. As  we  have  said,  the  location  of  the  prison  was  determined  by 
the  settled  purpose  to  employ  the  convicts  in  the  working  of  the 
quarries.  For  a  brief  period  this  business  appeared  to  be  prose- 
cuted with  satisfactory  results.  Contracts  were  made  with  the 
State,  and  with  the  Corporation  of  the  City  of  Albany,  for  the 
stone  for  the  State  House  and  the  City  Hall.  The  French  church 
that  was  partially  built  in  Canal  street,  near  Elm,  in  the  city  of 
Xew  York,  Grace  Church  on  Broadway,  and  several  minor  build- 
ings, were  also  contracted  for.  The  earnings  from  these  sources 
being  all  carried  to  the  credit  of  the  convicts,  and  the  expenses 
charged  to  the  State  under  the  head  of  Construction  and  Im- 
provement, it  did  look  for  a  few  years  as  if  the  promises  of  self- 
support,  so  lavishly  made,  might  be  partially  realized.  But 
elements  were  at  work  that  were  soon  to  dispel  these  hopes. 
First,  it  was  discovered  that  the  quality  of  the  stone  was  very  in- 
ferior. Unless  takeu  from  the  deepest  strata,  it  would  not  bear 
the  effects  of  the  climate.  Under  the  alternate  operations  of  heat 
and  cold,  it  would  in  a  short  time  decompose  and  crumble  away  into 
sand.  This  was  a  serious  drawback ;  yet  the  expenditure  of 
labor  and  money  in  sinking  shafts  down  to  the  more  compact 
formation  would  doubtless  have  been  rewarded  with  stone  of  the 


588 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


best  quality.  But  another  element  was  busy  that  was  not  to  be 
overcome.  The  stone-cutters  of  the  State  became  alarmed  at  the 
prospect  of  having  their  trade  monopolized  by  convicts.  Through 
the  public  journals,  and  by  the  voice  of  public  men,  determined 
efforts  were  incessantly  made  before  the  Legislature  to  pass  laws  re- 
straining such  employment  of  convicts.  The  Legislature  was  not 
slow  to  listen  to  a  voice  so  potent;  and  accordingly,  laws  were 
enacted  forbidding  the  cutting  of  stone  by  convicts,  except  those 
that  had  learned  the  trade  previous  to  their  incarceration.  That 
substantially  ended  the  practical  use  of  the  quarries,  and  they  have 
since  been  a  fruitful  source  of  loss.  Efforts  have  been  made,  on  sev- 
eral occasions,  to  utilize  them,  but  without  any  permanent  success. 
The  last  was  particularly  illustrative  of  the  fortunes  that  appear 
to  follow  all  schemes  looking  to  profit  from  the  employment  of 
convicts  by  the  State.  Three  or  four  persons  had,  in  a  small  way, 
been  prosecuting  the  business  of  lime-making,  with  apparently 
satisfactory  results.  They  employed  about  fifty  men,  for  whose 
services  they  paid  the  State  forty  cents  a  day,  on  a  contract  for 
five  years.  As  they  paid  nothing  for  the  raw  material,  and  no 
rent  for  yard,  shop,  or  wharf  room,  gave  the  business  their  per- 
sonal attention,  and  had  an  average  credit  of  six  months  on  their 
labor  account,  they  were  readily  supposed  to  be  doing  a  pay- 
ing business.  The  Inspectors  conceived  the  project  of  buying 
their  fixtures  and  the  unexpired  term  of  their  contract,  and  en- 
larging the  business  so  that  the  entire  force  of  the  prison  should 
eventually  be  employed  in  its  prosecution.  Listening  to  their 
representations,  the  Legislature  paid  the  contractors  §125,000  for 
their  good-will  and  fixtures — have  since  expended  about  as  much 
more  in  enlargements — and  very  easily  managed  to  lose  from  ten 
to  twenty  cents  a  barrel  on  every  barrel  of  lime  shipped.  After  a 
three  years'  trial,  the  use  of  the  quarries  was  substantially  aban- 
doned. In  1ST3  and  '74  the  lime  business  revived — 40,000  bar- 
rels being  made  in  1873  ;  the  quality  being  superior,  it  commands 
a  higher  price  than  any  other  in  market. 

Since  the  prohibition  of  stone  cutting,  the  authorities  have  been 
constantly  making  efforts  to  obtain  employment,  but  without  any 
settled  success.  Carpet-weaving,  the  making  of  shoes,  saws, 
files,  chains,  barrels,  furniture,  hats,  toys,  clothing,  cutlery,  liar- 


NOT  ABLE  TO  COMPETE  WITH  OUTSIDE  LABOR.  589 

ness  hardware,  small  castings,  machinery,  and  almost  every  variety 
of  mechanics,  has  been  alternately  tried  and  abandoned,  or  not 
prosecuted  to  the  extent  of  the  labor  that  is  at  command.  A  few 
years  ago  an  effort  was  made  to  establish  a  stereotype  foundry, 
which  promised  to  be  very  successful,  but  the  Legislature  promptly 
prohibited  its  prosecution.  The  prices  paid  range  from  thirty  to 
sixty  cents  per  day,  which  does  not  include  fuel.  The  men  gene- 
rally have  an  allotted  task  which  they  can  do  in  half  a  day,  and 
are  then  paid  for  overwork.  There  are  many  skilled  workmen 
among  them,  but  the  work  turned  out,  even  of  the  coarsest  kind, 
never  compares  favorably  with  outside  labor.  It  all  has  on  it 
what  experts  call  "  the  stripe,"  and  can  be  readily  distinguished 
by  those  in  the  least  familiar  with  prison  workshops.  Now  about 
one-half  the  inmates  are  at  work  for  contractors  in  the  manufac- 
ture of  furniture,  boots  and  shoes,  and  harness  hardware — the  only 
three  branches  of  industry  that  have  been  continuously  prosecuted 
for  any  length  of  time. 

At  the  present  time  the  expenses  of  maintaining  the  prison 
exceed  by  about  §175,000  per  annum  the  earnings  of  the  con- 
victs. 

SANITARY  CONDITION. 

Notwithstanding  the  admitted  fact  that  the  prison  is  badly 
ventilated,  and  unfit  for  the  confinement  of  so  large  a  number  as 
1,200,  it  is  also  a  fact  that  the  sanitary  condition  is  far  more  satis- 
factory than  that  of  the  same  number  of  adults  in  private  life. 
The  average  of  deaths  is  less,  and  the  general  health  better. 
When  it  is  borne  in  mind  that  nine  out  of  ten  of  those  sentenced 
come  to  the  prison  from  a  life  of  debauchery — that  they  are  to  a 
large  extent  diseased  and  broken  down  when  they  come  there,  the 
exemption  from  sickness  and  death  is  remarkable.  The  average 
of  hospital  inmates  is  less  than  two  per  cent. — a  result  that  speaks 
strongly  in  favor  of  regular  habits,  plain  food,  and  restraint  from 
excesses.  The  pure,  bracing  air  of  the  locality  doubtless  promotes 
this  exemption  from  disease,  but  the  primary  cause  must  be  due 
solely  to  the  ample,  but  simple  and  regular  diet  so  rigidly  en- 
forced. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  but  two  men  have  ever  attempted  to 


590 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


commit  suicide.  One  started  out  with  the  determination  to  starve 
himself  to  death.  He  resisted  food  for  six  days,  when  the  doctor 
resorted  to  the  stomach-pump  and  forced  sustenance  down  him, 
until  he  finally  gave  up.  The  other  attempted  to  cut  his  throat, 
but  was  very  willing  to  have  the  wound  dressed  and  readily 
seconded  the  efforts  made  to  restore  him. 

PRISON-LIFE. 

Prison-life  is  always  monotonous.  Convicts  have  their  social 
classifications  as  well  defined  as  the  habitues  of  the  Bowery  and 
the  Fifth  avenue,  and,  whether  in  or  out  of  prison,  they  naturally 
gravitate  towards  their  respective  classes.  The  forger  may  be 
called  the  representative  of  the  highest  type  of  criminal  society — 
the  sneak-thief  as  of  the  dregs ;  and  these  distinctions  are  as 
promptly  recognized  within  the  walls  as  they  would  be  without. 
The  pickpocket  looks  upon  the  cracksman  with  awe  and  admira- 
tion; the  burglar  ardently  aspires  to  the  higher  level  of  the 
counterfeiter. 

Few  incidents  occur  to  break  up  the  regular  routine.-  You 
might  be  connected  with  the  prison  for  years,  and  beyond  an 
occasional  attempt  to  escape,  or  a  rash  and  probably  futile  attempt 
to  violate  the  rules,  you  will  notice  nothing  to  form  the  ground- 
work of  a  reminiscence  that  would  linger  in  the  memory  more 
than  a  year  or  two.  Ask  the  oldest  of  the  officers  for  items  of 
interest  connected  with  his  prison  experience,  and  he  will  hardly 
recall  a  half-dozen. 

That  there  are  so  few  occurrences  of  note  is  due  to  the  coward- 
ice and  the  shrewdness  of  the  criminals.  The  lower  classes  are 
in  perpetual  fear  of  the  rules — the  more  intelligent,  like  Monroe 
Edwards.  Huntingdon,  Graham,  Ketchum,  Walworth,  Stokes, 
and  men  of  that  type,  know  that  they  will  best  promote  their 
own  comfort  and  render  their  incarceration  less  burdensome  by 
a  careful  observance  of  all  the  rules  and  customs  of  the  prison. 
The  men  of  the  highest  intelligence  will  do  the  most  to  screen 
themselves  from  the  attention  of  the  public,  and  generally  ask  no 
greater  favor  of  their  keepers  than  perfect  isolation  from  the 
world  during  the  period  of  their  confinement. 


HOW  REFRACTORY  PRISONERS  ARE  TREATED. 


591 


discipline;  and  means  OF  ENFORCLNG-  it. 

As  we  have  said,  the  Auburn  system,  adopted  at  Sing  Sing,  was 
very  strict  in  its  requirements.  It  gave  no  privileges  to  the  con- 
vict. It  required  prompt,  implicit  obedience.  Under  it  the  man 
was  a  machine,  wound  up  in  the  morning  to  work  so  many  hours, 
and  at  night  laid  away  to  remain  silent  and  motionless  until  the 
morning  came  again.  He  knew  only  his  keeper  in  the  prison — 
of  his  fellows  he  knew  nothing  or  next  to  nothing.  Of  the  out- 
side world  he  knew  only  what  might  be  told  him  by  the  one 
relative  that  at  long  intervals  was  permitted  a  brief  visit. 


THE  CATO'NIXE-TAILS. 

So  long  as  there  remained  any  of  the  old  convicts  that  Capt. 
Lynds  had  drilled  into  obedience,  and  so  long  as  he  was  active 
and  untrammelled,  there  was  little  punishment — but  little  required 
— for  when  punishment  was  inflicted  it  came  with  a  will  and  for 
a  purpose.  The  "  cato' nine-tails "  hung  by  the  side  of  every 
keeper — a  visible  reminder  of  reserved  power  that  was  ever  potent 


592 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


to  keep  in  subjection  the*  fractious  spirits  by  which  he  was 
surrounded. 

Until  1819,  the  only  punishment  permitted  by  law  was  solitary 
confinement,  with  a  bread-and-water  diet.  In  that  year  the  Legis- 
lature authorized  the  use  of  the  lash,  and  its  occasional  use  was 
continued  until  about  1840,  when  it  was  prohibited  by  legislative 
enactment. 

When  the  law  forbid  this  mode  of  enforcing  obedience,  the 
discipline  soon  sensibly  demonstrated  the  necessity  for  some 
equally  powerful  substitute.    A  shower-bath  became  that  substi- 


THE  SHOWER-BATH. 

tute — not  such  as  is  common  to  the  bathing-room,  with  its  gentle, 
refreshing  spray,  but  one  which  held  the  offender  in  a  close  em- 
brace, while  it  poured  upon  his  head  a  small  cataract  of  water. 
The  above  sketch  well  illustrates  the  appearance  of  the  first 
apparatus. 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  convict  is  held  as  in  stocks,  by  clamps 
around  his  ankles,  and  wrists,  and  neck,  so  that  it  is  impossible 
for  him  to  make  the  slightest  change  of  position,  beyond  shaking 
or  turning  his  head.  The  water  came  through  a  sieve  placed 
four  or  five  feet  above  the  head.    The  holes  in  this  sieve  were  a 


562 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


Detention  after  Eedmond  had  been  sworn.  Officer  O'Donnell 
had  charge  of  the  Harts.  It  appeared  that  they  called  into  nu- 
merous drinking  saloons,  at  every  one  of  which  the  witness  ob- 
jected, but  they  all  insisted.  The  conversation  during  the  drinks 
was  very  ludicrous.  At  last  they  came  to  one  drinking  place ; 
drinks  were  proposed ;  "I  objected,"  said  witness,  but  it  was  no 
use ;  while  all  hands  were  drinking,  Eedmond  asked,  "  How  do 
you  like  my  testimony  ? "  Witness  said  he  got  on  very  well. 
"  Oh,"  said  Eedmond,  "  I  studied  it  well." 


LUDLOW-STREET  JAIL. 


Mr.  Tremain  asked  the  witness  whether  he  drank  anything. 
To  which  he  replied  that  he  has  been  a  temperance  man  for 
twenty  years,  and  drinks  nothing  but  soda-water  and  sarsaparilla. 

The  witness  then  related  how  on  the  way  to  the  House  of  De- 
tention Thomas  Hart  told  him  he  expected,  besides  the  $1,000 
from  Mr.  Powers,  Mrs.  Fisk  would  pay  him. 


MAP    OF    "COLLECT    POND,"    GIVING    THE  PRESENT  SITE  OF  THE    "  TOMBS," 
AS  DRAWN  BY  JOHN  CANTER,  THE  COUNTERFEITER. — SEE  PAGE  259. 


662 


APPENDIX. 


and  establish  honesty,  industry,  and  virtue  in  their  stead  ;  cause 
the  prisoner  to  heartily  co-operate  in  his  own  reform  by  showing 
him  that  those  placed  over  him  are  his  friends,  and  that  their 
best  efforts  are  enlisted  for  his  welfare. 

After  a  prisoner  has  once  had  the  advantages  of  this  division 
and,  if  he  then  return  to  crime,  he  must  not  be  allowed  to  enter 
here  the  second  time. 

A  second  division  should  be  arranged  for  the  incarceration  of 
the  milder  cases  of  second  offence  and  older  criminals ;  here  the 
system  should  be  different,  discipline  stern  and  exacting.  A  chance 
should  here  be  offered  to  reform,  but  the  privileges  should  be  few 
and  labor  constant  without  task  or  reward. 

For  cases  that  have  failed  here  a  third  division  should  be  ar- 
ranged. In  this  I  would  imprison  all  cases  for  third  convictions,, 
long-term  burglars,  cases  of  manslaughter,  arson,  robbery,  murder. 
This  prison  should  be  very  secure,  so  that  escapes  would  be  impos- 
sible ;  the  fare  should  be  simple,  coarse  and  regular;  the  system  of 
labor  should  be  constant,  and  all  the  surroundings  of  the  plainest 
kind.  Let  as  many  such  prisons  as  are  needed  be  added  to  those 
now  in  use ;  let  them  be  wisely  located  where  supplies  can  be 
cheaply  obtained,  and  a  ready  market  found  for  the  wares  pro- 
duced, and  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  believe  that  large  advances 
would  be  made  in  the  way  of  reforming  criminals,  and  at  very 
little  cost  to  the  public  treasury. 

George  B.  IIubbell,  Warden, 
Sing  Sing  Prison,  February  28,  1874. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

the  adventurous  career  of  mrs.  victoria  c.  woodhull  and  miss 

tennte  c.  claflin  how  they  did  the  clairvoyant  dodge  in 

the  west  "  eastward  the  star  of  woodhull  takes  its  way  " 

 their  appearance  in  new  york  the  office  in  broad  street 

and  the  ur-town  residence — establishment  of  "  woodiiull  6c 

claflin's  weekly  " — free-love  gathering  of  the  storm — 

vicky's  lightnlng  flashes — the  great  beecher  scandal  "  in 
the  tombs  "  ludlow-street  jail. 

"  All  their  cares,  hopes,  joys,  affections,  virtues,  and  associations  seemed  to 
be  melted  down  into  dollars  ;  whatever  the  chance  contributions  that  fell  into  the 
slow  cauldron  of  their  talk,  they  made  the  gruel  thick  and  slab  with  dollars."1 — 

Dickexs,  in  Martin  Chuzzleicit. 

IT  was  about  five  years  ago  that  New  York  woke  up  one  morn- 
ing to  a  new  sensation.  This  time  it  was  not  a  murder  nor  an 
elopement,  a  defalcation  nor  a  suicide — quite  ordinary  events,  it 
is  true,  in  this  metropolis — but  on  the  contrary,  the  sensationalism 
of  the  event  resided  entirely  in  its  novelty.  Two  women,  from 
the  Prairies  of  the  \Vest,  had  pitched  their  tents  in  Gotham,  and 
openly  announced  themselves  as  being  engaged  in  the  buying  and 
selling  of  stocks  and  gold — in  a  word,  as  female  bankers. 

Who  are  they?  Such  the  question  young  New  York  asked  it- 
self almost  immediately.  So  far  as  their  personal  appearance 
went,  it  only  piqued  the  rising  curiosity.  The  elder  was  a  woman 
of  some  thirty  years,  with  clear-cut  features,  short  hair  brushed 
carelessly  back  from  an  expressive  and  handsome  face,  gray  eyes, 
with  the  flash  in  them  of  burnished  steel  when  the  sunlight  plays 
upon  it,  a  form  elegantly  refined,  and  a  manner  as  suave  and  en- 
gaging as  could  be  desired. 

Such  was  Victoria  C.  "Wbodhull. 

The  other !  Stouter  in  person  than  her  sister,  the  anatomical 
curves  of  her  body  approaching  more  nearly  Hogarth's  famous 
definition  of  the  line  of  beauty,  saucy  and  jpiyuante  where  Mrs. 


4  ■ 


THE  BEECHER-WOODHULL  MEETING.  511 

private  meeting  with  him,  where  she  could  uninterruptedly  dis- 
cuss the  situation  of  affairs,  would  be  to  her  the  consummation  of 
her  most  sanguine  hopes,  and  she  set  about  it  with  the  pertinacity 
and  adroitness  of  a  diplomat.  Some  time  previously  she  had 
gained  an  entrance  into  a  certain  set  in  the  City  of  Churches, 
where  Mr.  Beecher  was  a  frequent  visitor.  She  manoeuvred  for 
an  interview  with  Mr.  Beecher  and  obtained  it.  At  the  meeting 
she  did,  with  the  most  unblushing  effrontery,  request  him  to  come 
with  her  to  Xew  York  and  introduce  her  to  an  audience  of  scof- 
fers and  unbelievers.  This  to  her  was  the  golden  opportunity, 
and  it  was  here  that  she  was  terrible  in  her  wrath,  when  she 
found  that  the  great  preacher  was  about  to  fail  her,  and  she  left 
the  house  after  Mr.  Beecher  had  declined  to  accede  to  her  re- 
quest, vowing  that  if  she  went  alone  before  the  crowded  audience 
then  waiting  to  greet  her,  she  would  introduce  some  startling 
topics  in  her  lecture  not  down  in  the  bills.  An  admirer  per- 
formed the  service  required  of  Mr.  Beecher,  and  she  bottled  her 
wrath  to  be  exploded  at  a  future  day.  So  pronounced  did  she 
now  become  in  her  social  views  that  the  most  prominent  free- 
thinkers deserted  her  standard  and  openly  denounced  her  in  the 
press.  Her  affinity  deserted  her,  and  she  soon  perceived  that  her 
charm  was  no  longer  potent.  The  women  who  had  used  such  en- 
dearing expressions  towards  her  were  now  lukewarm  in  their 
regard.  She  saw  that  she  was  excluded  on  every  side,  and  she 
determined  to  be  revenged. 

It  was  on  the  1st  of  [November,  1872,  that  the  number  of 
WoodhuLl  dk  Claflirts  WeeJdy  appeared  which  created  so  great  a 
sensation.  The  publication  of  the  paper  had  been  suspended  for 
several  months,  and  its  reappearance  was,  of  itself,  enough  to 
awaken  curiosity;  but  when  the  additional  fact  was  developed 
that  the  reissue  opened  with  a  bold  attack  upon  the  character  of 
that  popular  preacher  who  has  occupied  so  prominent  a  place  in 
the  minds  and  affections  of  a  vast  multitude,  curiosity  rose  to  the 
dignity  of  intense  interest.  The  demand  for  the  "Weekly"  was 
such  that  the  price  rose  rapidly  from  ten  cents  to  one  dollar  a 
copy. 

The  only  evening  paper  which  gave  an  account  of  the  so- 
called  "Beecher  Scandal"  was  the  Ecening  Telegram,  wherein 


512 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


the  eight  columns  of  the  Woodhull  dk  Claflin  WeeJdy  were  con- 
densed to  half  that  space. 

For  some  days  the  press  of  the  metropolis  was  silent  in  regard 
to  this  new  sensation,  but  presently  the  country  press,  and  notice- 
ably the  Chicago  Times,  began  to  discuss  the  question. 

The  day  following  the  publication  of  the  sensational  article 
Mrs.  Victoria  C.  AVoodhull  and  Miss  Tennie  C.  Clafliii  were  ar- 
rested at  their  office,  48  Broad  street,  as  they  returned  in  a  car- 
riage from  lunch,  on  a  warrant  issued  at  the  instance  of  Mr. 
Anthony  Comstock.  Recognizing  the  situation  at  a  glance,  they 
raised  their  Alpine  hats  to  the  official  representative  of  the  U. 
S.  Government,  and,  without  display,  went  quietly  to  their  quar- 
ters in  Ludlow-street  jail. 

To  the  grave  accusations  Rev.  Henry  Ward  Beecher  made  no 
public  response.  He  is  reported  to  have  said  that,  "In  passing 
along  the  way  any  one  is  liable  to  have  a  bucket  of  slops  thrown 
upon  him.    It  is  disagreeable,  but  it  does  no  material  harm." 

The  Assistant  United  States  District  Attorney  declared  that  it 
was  the  business  of  the  Government  to  protect  the  reputation  of 
its  revered  citizens,  and  the  social  pests  were  hurried  off  to  jail 
without  even  a  preliminary  examination.  Here  they  were  visited 
by  a  number  of  persons  of  both  sexes,  every  one  of  whom  were  at 
war  with  society,  and  all  followers  of  the  Kew  Dispensation. 
The  public  were  terribly  incensed  and  the  women  and  their  fol- 
lowers were  denounced  on  all  sides.  For  some  time  no  person 
could  be  found  with  sufficient  temerity  to  go  their  bail,  and  in  a 
cell  at  Ludlow-street  jail  they  were  obliged  to  stay  for  several 
weeks.  Among  those  who  visited  them  was  George  Francis 
Train.  Every  day  he  called  and  urged  the  women  to  bide  their 
time,  promising  them  his  support  and  counsel.  Reporters  inter- 
viewed them  and  published  their  grievances,  but  the  press  gener- 
ally insisted  that  these  women  should  be  speedily  tried  and  disposed 
of.  But  it  was  evident  from  the  start  that  the  United  States  au- 
thorities, in  their  zeal  to  prosecute  these  vixens,  had  usurped  the 
law. 

The  arrest  should  have  been  made  on  no  such  charge  as  that  pre- 
ferred in  the  beginning.  It  is  doubtful  if  the  objectionable  publi- 
cation contained  matter  that  could  be  properly  called  obscene,  any 


THE  SHOOTING  AT  THE  GRAND  CENTRAL. 


523 


THE  POSITION  ON  THE  STAIRS  AS  DESCRIBED  BY  STOKES. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


JOHN  MAHONY,  THE  AMERICAN  JACK  SHEPPARD. — AN  ACCOUNT  OF 
HIS  ADVENTUROUS  LIFE,  WRITTEN  BY  HIMSELF. — HIS  CAREER 
OF  CRIME  AND  HIS  REMARKABLE  ESCAPES. 

"  But  to  give  it  to  you  short  and  handy  I'll  put  it  at  once  into  a  mouthful  of  English. 
In  jail  and  out  of  jail,  in  jail  and  out  of  jail,  in  jail  and  out  of  jail.  There,  you've  got 
it." — Dickens,  in  "  Great  Expectations.'" 

f  I  ^HIS  chapter  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  interesting  in  the  book. 

It  is  the  life  of  a  noted  criminal,  written  by  himself,  and 
reads  like  a  romance  of  Ainsworth.  It  will  be  noticed  that  this 
young  man  was  possessed  of  an  intelligent  mind,  and  was  not 
devoid  of  the  graces  of  composition.  He  handles  the  pen  quite  as 
well  as  he  did  the  a  jimmy,''  and  has  given  a  vivid  picture  of  his 
checkered  career.  It  was  written  expressly  for  the  author  of  this 
work,  at  his  request. 

LIFE  OF  JOHN  MAHONY, 

as  written  by  himself  in  the  Massachusetts  State  Prison,  Christmas 
night,  1870  : 

I  was  born  in  the  City  of  New  York,  in  the  year  1844  Of  my 
early  childhood  my  recollections  are  imperfect,  but  I  still  remember 
that  I  was  very  wild,  and  ran  into  every  sort  of  danger.  One  day, 
while  playing  on  the  ice,  I  broke  through,  and  would  have  been 
instantly  drowned,  had  not  my  sister,  at  the  risk  of  her  life,  saved 
mine. 

I  was  the  only  son  of  a  family  of  four  children.  "While  quite 
young  my  father  was  taken  sick  and  confined  to  his  bed  for  a  long 
period.  I  remember,  every  afternoon  my  mother  would  take  me 
up  to  my  father's  room,  when  he  would  give  me  some  little  luxury, 
and  fondle  me  on  his  bed. 

My  recollections  of  my  father's  death  are  vivid  and  distinct, 
although  at  the  time  I  had  no  correct  idea  what  death  was.  I  and 
my  sisters  and  a  few  friends  were  standing  at  his  bed  side,  and  my 
mother  was  kneeling  at  the  head  of  the  bed. 


SCHEME  TO  PROVE  AN  ALIBI  FRUSTRATED. 


2G3 


tucky,  Thomas  F.  Marshall,  of  Kentucky,  W.  M.  Evarts,  J.  Pres- 
cott  Hall,  Wm.  M.  Price  and  Eobert  Emmett. 

James  R  Whiting,  District  Attorney,  conducted  the  prosecution, 
assisted  by  Ogden  Hoffman,  United  States  District  Attorney. 

Edwards  was  the  great  attraction  every  day,  and  the  court  room 
was  always  crowded  by  those  anxious  to  have  a  glimpse  at  him.  He 
was  a  man  of  middle  height,  rather  slender,  with  dark  hair  and 
whiskers,  and,  singular  as  it  may  seem,  light  blue  eyes.  He  was 
elegantly  dressed,  his  linen  in  particular  being  faultless.  He  wore 
no  ornament  save  a  gold  watch  chain. 

On  the  day  set  down  for  his  trial  there  appeared  in  the  columns 
of  the  Courier  and  Enquirer  newspaper,  edited  and  published  by 
Major  Noah  and  Gen.  James  Watson  Webb,  a  very  bitter  article 
about  Edwards.  Mr.  Marshall  took  occasion  to  allude  to  the  article 
in  open  court  and  abused  Gen.  Webb  therefor.  A  duel  was  the 
result,  in  which  Gen.  Webb  was  shot.  Gen.  Webb  and  his  second, 
on  their  return  to  the  city,  were  arrested  for  violating  the  laws  of 
the  State  by  engaging  in  a  duel.  They  were  tried  and  convicted, 
and  would  have  been  sent  to  State  Prison  but  for  the  pardon  of  the 
Governor  (Wm.  H.  Seward) — a  monster  petition,  which  appeared 
to  bear  the  signature  of  everybody  in  New  York,  asking  then  par- 
don, having  been  presented. 

The  trial  of  Edwards  was  conducted  before  Judge  Kent,  son  of 
Chancellor  Kent,  and  one  of  the  ablest  jndges  at  that  time  on  the 
bench.  The  trial  was  ably  conducted — the  District  Attorney  and 
the  prisoner's  counsel  bringing  their  full  powers  in  play. 

The  defence  tried  to  prove  an  alibi,  endeavoring  to  show  by  the 
hotel  register  that  at  the  time  he  was  alleged  to  be  in  New  York 
he  was  actually  in  New  Orleans ;  but  the  District  Attorney  had 
got  possession  of  some  letters  which  showed  that  he  would  be  in 
this  city  at  the  time  he  tried  to  prove  that  he  was  in  New  Orleans. 
Among  them  was  one  to  a  friend  in  this  city,  in  which  he  stated 
that  he  would  be  on,  with  a  pocket  full  of  rocks,  the  very  day  he 
claimed  to  have  been  at  New  Orleans. 

The  Court  desired  the  prisoner  to  show  where  he  had  got  the 
large  amount  of  money  which  had  been  taken  from  him  in  Phila- 
delphia. He  claimed  that  it  was  furnished  by  his  partner  for  the 
purpose  of  buying  lands  in  Texas,  and  stocking  it  with  negroes  and 


DISCOVERY  OF  APPLIANCES  FOR  ESCAPING. 


267 


"had  been  cut  out  The  affair  created  quite  a  commotion,  and  many 
sympathized  with  the  prisoner,  though  the  District  Attorney  was 
rather  inclined  to  be  sceptical,  and  doubted  his  ever  having  had 
the  money. 

"While  at  the  Tombs,  Monroe  Edwards  was  favored  with  the 
visits  of  many  lady  friends  and  admirers,  who  brought  him 
bouquets  and  other  nick-nacks  and  trinkets.  Among  the  gifts  he 
received  from  them  were  fine,  highly  tempered  saws,  for  sawing 
through  iron,  a  pistol,  and  rope  ladder  made  of  silk,  with  grap- 
pling irons  attached,  to  enable  him  to  effect  his  escape  from  prison. 

The  Warden,  learning  that  he  had  these  articles  in  his  trunk, 
went  to  the  prisoner's  cell  and  demanded  that  he  produce  them, 
which,  however,  he  refused  to  do ;  but  being  threatened  with  pun- 
ishment, and  the  forcible  opening  of  his  trunk  by  the  prison 
authorities,  he  at  length  complied.  The  articles  were  found  con- 
cealed in  a  false  till  at  the  bottom  of  the  trunk. 

A  day  or  two  subsequent  Edwards  was  taken  to  State  Prison, 
but  he  no  sooner  arrived  there  than  he  set  his  wits  to  work  devis- 
ing some  means  to  effect  his  escape. 

He  conceived  a  system  of  telegraphy  with  some  of  his  fellow 
prisoners,  by  means  of  grains  of  corn  so  disposed  as  to  appear  the 
result  of  pure  accident,  but  perfectly  intelligible  to  those  in  the 
secret.  One  of  the  grains  getting  accidentally  displaced  one  day, 
by  being  blown  away,  the  "communication  was  interrupted,"  and 
the  attempt  to  repair  the  accident  led  to  its  discovery  by  the  prison 
authorities. 

On  another  occasion  he  got  into  a  large  drawer  in  the  work- 
shop, which  was  pushed  to  by  one  of  the  convicts.  When  evening 
came,  and  the  convicts  were  taken  to  their  cells,  it  was  discovered 
that  one  of  them  was  missing.  The  alarm  was  sounded  and  search 
instituted,  but  without  result.  At  daybreak  the  search  was  re- 
sumed with  no  better  success.  The  keepers  were  puzzled,  but  did 
not  relax  their  efforts,  and  extra  guards  were  put  out.  Edwards' 
position  in  the  drawer  was  necessarily  a  very  uncomfortable  one, 
and,  beginning  to  experience  the  pangs  of  hunger  and  thirst,  he 
could  stand  it  no  longer,  and  so  he  gave  himself  up.  The  Warden 
ordered  him  to  be  whipped,  and  henceforth  to  work  with  ball  and 
chain  attached  to  his  leg,  which,  in  addition  to  being  very  painful, 


80 


THE  NEW  YORK  TOMBS. 


mentous  crisis.  We  have  no  doubt  Governor  Seward  will  order 
an  investigation  at  once  into  this  most  unheard  of — most  unparal- 
leled tragedy." 

In  a  further  allusion  to  the  subject,  the  Herald  says :  "  Who 
gave  hem:  the  knife  ?  Persons  who  were  alone  with  him  in  his 
cell  yesterday :  Kev.  Mr.  Anthon,  Dudley  Selden,  Samuel  Colt, 
Caroline  Henshaw,  Sheriff  Hart. 


BURNING  OF  THE  TOMBS  CUPOLA. 

t  " In  addition  to  the  above,  David  Graham  and  Robert  Emmett 
visited  him  together,  when  no  other  persons  were  present.  Also, 
John  Howard  Payne  and  Lewis  Gaylord  Clarke  visited  him  with 
Samuel  Colt.    Who  gave  him  the  knife  ?" 

There  were  at  the  time,  and  are  now,  many  persons  who  believe 
that  during  the  excitement  consequent  to  the  burning  of  the 
Tombs  cupola,  Colt  was  allowed  to  escape,  and  a  body  substituted 
by  his  friends  to  convey  the  impression  of  suicide. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


THE  DRIFTWOOD  IN  THE  CURRENT  OF    METROPOLITAN  LIFE.  VA- 
GRANTS, BUMMERS,  DRUNKARDS,  REVOLVERS,  MISERS. 

"  May  I  take  this  opportunity  of  remarking  that  it  is  scarcely  delicate  to  look  at 
vagrants  with  the  attention  that  I  have  seen  bestowed  upon  them  by  a  very  dear 
young  friend  of  mine  ?  They  should  not  be  looked  at.  Nothing  disagreeable  should 
ever  be  looked  at." — Dickens,  in  Little  Dorritt. 


IHE  tattered  army  of  Vagrancy  is  fully  as  miserable  a  one, 


although  a  great  deal  larger  than  that  crew  of  ragged  militia 
which  the  doughty  Falstaff  commanded.  These  descendants  of 
Ishmael  are  found  all  over  the  globe.  Whether  it  is  the  diseased 
lazzaroni,  sunning  their  sores  in  the  streets  of  Naples,  the  dirty  alms 
seeking  wretch,  who  prowls  through  the  fetid  alleys  of  Constanti- 
nople, the  stalwart  sun  burned  gipsy,  pitching  his  tent  in  the  frag- 
rant English  lane,  or  the  Irish  beggar,  who  runs  beside  your  jaunt- 
ing car,  turning  somersaults  in  the  mud  for  your  amusement; 
whether  it  be  any  of  these,  or  any  of  the  thousand  and  one  shapes 
in  which  Vagrancy  manifests  itself,  its  miserable  votaries  are  all 
stamped  with  the  unmistakable  mark  of  vagabondism,  and  all 
march  to  a  pauper's  grave  under  the  same  ragged  banner.  Tramps 
abound  in  the  country,  where  they  eke  out  a  precarious  existence, 
but  it  is  in  the  great  city  that  destitution  loves  to  hide  itself.  Down 
along  the  river  front,  and  in  the  back  slums  of  a  metropolis  like 
Xew  York,  can  be  seen  at  all  times  cases  of  hardship  which  would 
break  the  heart  of  a  philanthropist  to  contemplate.  There,  where 
foul  smells  abound,  where  the  pawn  shop  blossoms  side  by  side 
with  the  bucket  groggery,  where  dirty  children  play  in  the  mud 
with  dogs  and  pigs,  where  drunken  men  beat  drunken  wives,  where 
battered  hats  are  thrust  into  broken  windows,  where  a  sickly  and 
polluted  light  gives  all  things  a  horrid  glare,  where  disease,  poverty 
and  death  stalk  in  fearful  shapes,  there  it  is  that  the  outcast  lives 
a  miserable  life,  and  there  it  is  whence  the  workhouse  is  liberally 
recruited.    Such  men  and  women  are  constantly  drifting  into  the 


6 


* 


CHAPTER  VI. 

COLTS  CASE. — THE  MURDER  OF  SAMUEL  ADAMS. — THE  DEATH 
GRAPPLE  IX  COLT  S  OFFICE. — SHIPPING  THE  BODY  TO  NEW 
ORLEANS. — DETECTION,  ARREST,  THE  TOMBS. — THE  WEDDING  IN 
THE  CELL. — SUICIDE  OF  COLT. 

M  The  hand  had  shut  upon  it  tight,  with  that  rigidity  of  grasp  with  which  no 
living  man,  in  the  full  strength  and  energy  of  life,  can  clutch  a  prize  he  has  won. 
They  dragged  him  out  into  the  dark  street,  but  jury,  judge  and  hangman  could  have 
done  no  more,  and  could  do  nothing  now.  Dead,  dead,  dead!'' — Dickens,  in  Martin 
Chuzzlewit. 

the  afternoon  of  Friday,  the  17th  day  of  September,  18-41, 
Mr.  John  C.  Colt,  a  professional  book-keeper,  and  teacher  of 
ornamental  penmanship,  was  sitting  in  his  office,  which  was  in  the 
granite  building  at  the  corner  of  Chambers  street  and  Broadway. 
The  building  still  stands,  and  is  occupied  by  Delmonico  as  a  restau- 
rant. Mr.  Colts  office  was  on  the  second  floor,  looking  out  upon 
Chambers  street 

In  an  adjoining  room  a  Mr.  Wheeler,  also  a  book-keeper,  was 
sitting  at  work    With  him  was  a  young  lad,  a  pupil  of  his. 

It  was  between  three  and  four  o'clock,  and  at  that  very  moment 
there  was  walking  to  the  building  a  man  who  was  walking  to  his 
death.    That  man  was  Samuel  Adams,  a  printer. 

Colt  was  engaged  in  writing  a  work  on  book-keeping  and  Adams 
was  printing  it  There  was  a  balance  of  money  due  by  the  author 
.to  the  latter,  and  Adams  was  coming  to  see  Colt  about  the  ac- 
counts. 

On  he  came— into  the  entrance,  up  the  stairs,  into  the  room. 
He  sat  down  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  to  Colt,  and  the  two 
began  an  argument  about  the  amount  of  money  due  from  one  to 
the  other. 

A  small  hammer,  or  axe,  lay  upon  the  table. 
The  different  opinions  held  by  the  two  about  the  debt  led  to  il] 
feeling.    Argument  became  abuse. 


THE  GAMBLER'S  FAMILY.  57 

When  once  the  victim  gives  up  the  plea  of  playing  for  a  small 
stake,  merely  to  give  a  zest  to  the  game,  he  takes  up  the  more 
dangerous  one  of  making  a  business  of  the  matter.  He  never 
acquires  the  wealth  he  aims  at,  for,  as  clupe  after  dupe  is  caught  in 
his  net,  and  their  gold  falls  rattling  into  his  coffers,  his  cry  is  still 
more — more  / 

It  is  true  that  a  few  persons  may  amass  wealth  by  games  of 
chance,  but  every  dollar  is  the  fruit  of  some  one's  toil.  It  is  cover- 
ed with  the  poor  man's  sweat,  the  tears  of  orphans,  the  blood  of 
broken  hearts. 

It  is  found  that  a  gambler  is  rapidly  qualified  for  every  other 
species  of  villany.  The  fiery  excitement  to  which  he  yields  him- 
self in  the  gaming  room  influences  every  other  passion.  It  pro- 
duces a  state  of  mind  that  can  be  satisfied  only  with  intense  and 
forbidden  pleasures.  The  gambler  finds  his  amusement  in  the 
circus,  the  theatre,  the  lascivious  dance,  the  race  course,  and  in 
night  revellings  and  Bacchanalian  feasts.  Ordinary  excitements 
are  insipid  and  stale  in  his  estimation.  He  would  gladly  witness 
as  a  pastime  bull  fights,  pugilistic  encounters,  and,  perhaps,  his 
craving  for  excitement  could  only  be  fully  satisfied  by  scenes  such 
as  the  pagan  Eomans  formerly  feasted  their  eyes  upon,  in  which 
men  and  women  were  torn  to  pieces  by  wild  beasts. 

In  this  manner  does  this  great  vice  make  a  Vandal  of  a  man* 
Nor  should  the  youth  forget  that,  if  he  is  once  overtaken  in  its  toils, 
the  hope  of  extricating  himself,  or  of  realizing  his  visions  of  wealth 
and  happiness,  is  exceedingly  faint.  If  he  does  not  become  a  bank- 
rupt in  property  he  is  sure  to  become  one  in  character.  Would 
the  gamester  unlock  the  springs  of  his  heart,  that  he  has  pressed 
down  as  with  iron — would  he  suffer  memory  and  reflection  to  do 
their  work,  what  tragic  pictures  of  life  might  they  paint  for  him. 

The  first  tableau  in  the  series  would  be  one  of  calm  bliss  and 
joy — not  a  cloud  in  the  heavens,  save  that  tinged  and  made  beauti- 
ful by  Hope.  Then  the  scene  changes.  A  tearful  and  deserted 
wife,  with  her  sobbing  child,  keeping  watch  with  her  lone  night 
lamp  until  the  breaking  of  the  morn.  Again  it  changes,  and 
haggard  misery  creeps  into  the  picture.  The  tears  of  starved  and 
shivering  children  embitter  the  cup  which  Fate  presses  to  the  lips 
of  the  gamester.     Once  again  it  changes  and  we  see  a  grave — a 


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